Hey Jealousy
by Kizabeth
Summary: They haven't seen each other for three years. So what happens when a twist of fate lands Booth at Brennan's doorstep in the middle of the night? Can they resolve their differences, or is Brennan still not ready to take the next step? R&R appreciated
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_A/N: I would not classify this as a songfic, rather as a story inspired by a song to begin with. I was listening to 'Hey Jealousy' by the Gin Blossoms and the idea stuck in my head where Booth shows up at Brennan's door after years of separation. Other songs have played a part in inspiration for sections of this story, particularly 'February Song' by Josh Groban (more the intrsumental than the lyrics). Just so you know, Italics represents the past, or a flashback or some sort. This storyline is not something I'd usually write, but I gave it a go. So please enjoy..._

_

* * *

_

He'd been living in Philadelphia for three years now, and in those three years he had not once spoken to his best friend, his partner.

For everything she was excellent at, Dr Temperance Brennan was never able to accept when something good was happening to her, and that night outside the Hoover, where Booth wanted to give '_them_' a chance, was no exception.

She ran.

And then so did he.

His time in the Philadelphia FBI Field Office had been pleasant, and he was quickly accepted as an expert in _his_ field, and promoted to Special Agent In Charge of that particular FBI office. The FBI Office was much smaller than that in DC, but his job here as Special Agent In Charge was practically the same as what he'd done in Washington, aside from the fact that he rarely went into the field and was more of a desk-jockey in the years he'd been in charge.

Had he been tempted to keep contact with his old life? Yes. Had he regretted his decision to leave DC after having his heart ripped out and thrown at him? Hell yes. But there was always a part of Booth that _knew_ that he had to leave, that things had to change between him and Brennan, _his_ Bones.

It was on this particular night, though, that Booth found himself driving through the familiar streets of DC, soaking up the memories of the place he once called home. The why escaped him, Booth had no clue why he had come back to Washington. There was nothing here for him, and nothing he had to offer the city either.

Booth parked his car in front of a particular apartment building, surprised to see the lights dimly lit at such an early hour of the evening. Things must have changed a lot since he left, and Booth knew that he had no right to just walk back into someone elses life. He had promised he would never abandon her, promised that he would always be there for her no matter what. Yet when everything got to be too much, Special Agent Seeley Booth, the man who had hidden his true feelings for Brennan for so long, could not even stand to be in the same city as the woman who had broken - crushed - his heart.

Booth had taken the opportunity to go to Afghanistan, though the distance truly did make the heart grow fonder, and though he wished that Brennan would be different - more open - when they got back, he was denied, again. It was then, after a few cases back, that Booth knew for certain that things between them needed to change - and fast. He took a few weeks off work, trying to 'find himself', as he explained to Sweets, and figured his past was the best place for him to be. Within the week, Booth had submitted his transfer request to the Philidelphia field Office and waved goodbye to his friends and family in DC, leaving them behind forever.

* * *

_He had said it to her before. "Things have to change". He just never expected to be saying it in this context. He was seated at the Founding Fathers bar, with Brennan at __**their**__ table. His beer was half empty, and Booth had been trying to summon the courage to tell Brennan of his plans._

_"There's something I need to tell you, Bones" he stated, not looking up from his beer, trying to hide so she couldn't read him._

_Brennan looked up from her wine, and tried to search his eyes. Booth was always open to her about... everything, yet she could sense that this time, this time he was trying to keep something from her._

_"Go ahead, Booth" she encouraged, grasping at Booth's hand on the table to reassure him that whatever he had to say, she would be okay with it._

_"I... I think I'm gonna move back to Philly, Bones." He felt terrible. Seeley Booth was not a man who ran from a fight, in fact he preferred to run towards them, to protect those he cared for. Yet this time, Booth was weak at the knees, terrified at what her response would be. All of his promises to her were broken in an instant, in a mere sentence._

_She searched his face for clues, but all that Brennan could detect was remorse - for what, she did not know. "I don't know what that means."_

_It was her defense mechanism, in this case at least. Brennan had some clue as to __**why**__ Booth was leaving, but she wanted - no, needed - to hear it from him._

_"It means, Bones," Booth was afraid to continue, and he disguised his fears with a long sip from his beer, hesistantly placing it back on the coaster in front of him. "It means that I can't stay here Bones. I put my transfer in on Monday, and I leave Saturday afternoon."_

_In that moment, Booth saw, actually saw, Brennan's heart break. The flash of pain that briefly flickered across her eyes was enough to make him cry, but Booth had to be strong - he had to do this. The woman in front of him had been his entire life for almost seven years. She was the only person that he had ever loved enough to let them be, and when push came to shove, Booth knew the best thing to do for her, for him, for __**them**__ was to leave, and never look back._

_The tears rimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over in a neverending stream. "Why? Is it because of me?" She felt a physical ache in her chest as the words slipped from her lips._

_Booth sighed. She was a woman of logic, of reason, and though his reasons for leaving were rooted in things that she would not believe in, Temperance Brennan deserved the truth._

_"Yes" he whispered, barely audible. Brennan caught the reserve and regret in Booth's tone as the single word answer was uttered._

_"What I said to you outside the Hoover that night, Bones, all of it was true. I love you, Temperance, and I can't stop loving you. I've tried, God have I tried. I let you run to Maluku, Bones, for a year, __**a year**__ and it didn't help. And I can't take it anymore, Bones."_

_"You don't want to love me?"_

_Booth almost choked on his beer as he scoffed at Brennan's remark. "No, Bones, you don't want to love me, or at least try to love me. I love you so much, so fucking much, that it actually, physically hurts, Bones, and I can't stop loving you. That's why I gotta go, Bones." With that, Booth finished his beer, slammed a few notes on the table and slowly dragged himself out of the bar, leaving his partner, his best friend and the woman he was so madly in love with behind._

_

* * *

_This is a new story whose prompt had me going for a while (What would happen if BB returned and everything remained the same between them?) I've written a few more chapters so far, but I'd like to know what everyone thinks, and whether or not I should continue.

_Thanks,_

_Kiz  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'd just like to say thanks to everyone who alerted and reviewed this story... it means a lot to me that you guys like it. And now..._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 2**

Nothing much had changed in this neighbourhood in the three years that he'd been gone. Temperance Brennan still lived in the same apartment she had when he'd last stepped foot in this building. The doorman also hadn't changed, and greeted Booth with a friendly nod as he made his way to the elevator.

Three sturdy, resounding knocks woke her from her feather light sleep on the couch, and Temperance Brennan was hesitant to open the door to whoever was waiting on the other side. But nevertheless, Brennan dragged herself from the couch, rolling her shoulders as she wandered to the door.

Of all the people she expected to be standing on the other side of the door, Brennan never expected to find _this_ long lost character standing, shoulders hunched and hands buried deep into jacket pockets, on the hall side of her door.

"Booth" she exclaimed, throwing herself into Booth's body, arms wrapping around under his jacket, clenching tightly so as not to let him go. Temperance Brennan was not an emotional person, yet in this moment, this hour of need, her 'prayers' had finally been answered, and she let herself go completely, tears streaming down her cheeks, soaking Booth's white dress shirt.

Hesitantly, Booth wrapped his arms around Brennan, savouring the moment. It was the first time in over three years that he had held Brennan, felt her warm body relax into his own, and there was no way, no way that he would end this moment himself.

Thankfully though, Brennan's inclination was to remain in that position, grasping tightly at Booth's shirt, holding on for dear life to him, to ensure he was really there, and that it wasn't another one of her daydreams. She wanted to speak up, to say something to Booth that could convey how much she had missed him over the years, but also tell him how hurt she was by his abrupt decision to leave, essentially breaking every promise he'd ever made her - and breaking her.

Brennan came to a conclusion as to how to show Booth all the things she was feeling at that moment. She turned her head to look up at him, and dragged her hands from their position clutching at his shirt, and forcefully pushed him away from her.

Her reaction was no surprise to Booth as he watched the pain, and relief, flicker across Brennan's eyes. He knew he'd hurt her when he walked out of the bar that night, after confessing to her that _she_ was the reason he was leaving.

"What are you doing back here, Booth?" enquired Brennan, defensively crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to show to Booth that she did _not_ miss him, a complete lie of course.

Booth nervously rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. "Uh, I don't... I don't really know. Can I just come in Bones?"

Brennan took a step back. Not because she was allowing Booth's entrance, but more so because she hadn't heard that name in three years. Even Parker had stopped calling her Bones when he came for the occasional visit to the Jeffersonian shortly after Booth left.

Booth took a seat on the couch, and Brennan made herself comfortable in an armchair across from him.

"I guess you're wondering why I'm here, right Bones." Brennan's gentle nod encouraged Booth to continue, however hesitant and reserved he was. "I uh, I don't know why I'm here in DC, Bones. I kind of just got in the car after work and drove."

"Booth!" interjected Brennan, her tone scolding as she continued. "That's a three hour drive, Booth. And through peak hour traffic, I don't doubt if it was closer to four hours. That was a poor decision."

Booth looked down at his wrist, checking the time and mentally kicking himself for mentioning just 'up and leaving' to Brennan. He did, however, take comfort in the fact that Brennan was yet to know just how long he'd been at work for. Since moving to Philadelphia, Booth ceased working his regular 9-5 hours, and found himself working a more typical 'Brennan shift' - from some undefinable hour in the morning to God-only-knows-when in the evening. And to top it all off, Booth generally hit the gym at the Philly field office for a hard workout first thing in the morning, all seven days of the week, regardless of physical exhaustion. Just like Booth was Brennan's stop-work rock, Brennan was Booth's too.

"Yeah, well, sometimes we make bad decisions, Bones" he scoffed. His comment could have been about any number of things that had happened to them over their years as partners, but he just wanted Brennan to know, at this moment at least, that he hadn't planned on walking back into her life.

Calming herself down, Brennan turned the conversation, while she got up to go to the kitchen. "So, what have you been up to in Philadelphia, Booth?" Brennan quickly returned with a glass of water and a beer for Booth, setting them on the coffee table.

"I can't drink this, Bones. I have to drive back to Philly tonight."

Brennan broke into laughter. "You actually believe that I am going to let you drive for three hours back to Philadelphia after stopping for half an hour, when it's almost 11 at night? You're staying here, Booth. No questions about it."

Booth reached for the beer and took a sip, slowly relaxing as the cool liquid washed down his throat. He hadn't had a beer since that night at the Founding Fathers. "Only if you're sure about it, Bones, I don't want to be a bother to you."

Brennan nodded her head. "So tell me about your time in Philly."

And so Booth regaled Brennan with stories of his time in Pennsylvania, his time at the Bureau office and then his promotion.

"Do you miss it...? I mean the field work."

Booth shrugged his shoulders, taking another sip of his beer. "Sometimes. I miss chasing the bad guys, the thrill of the fight and going undercover. God I miss that. But... what I do now, it's still rewarding. I guess it just depends on what day you ask me as to what response you'll get."

Brennan's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"Of course you don't, Bones. It just means that, if I've had a bad day I'll probably say I miss being a field agent, but if my back's playing up, or I'm tired or whatever, I'll probably say I love sitting behind a desk." Booth paused for a minute, then turned back to face Brennan. "So what have you been up to, Bones? You must've done something interesting in the last three years."

Brennan nodded. "I went back to Maluku shortly after you left, they requested my return and I obliged. I've also written another novel."

This time Booth nodded. "I know" he said, standing and meandering over to her bookcase, pulling out the latest of Brennan's novels. "_'For my Partner and Friend, whose silent and sudden departure spoke volumes to me.'_ I still read all of your books, Bones, even if I'm not your partner anymore." His smile was soft as he sat back on the couch, handing the book across to Brennan, who accepted it, tears glazing over her eyes.

"Actually, I'm leaving DC next month..." she hoped this turn in conversation would avert Booth from the fact that she was truly touched that he still read her books. "I'm going to California for a conference, and then my publisher is taking me on a cross-country book tour for my last book, and to promote the next one."

Booth couldn't hide his disappointment at Brennan's admission. "Um... okay. I hope you enjoy that Bones." Booth feigned a yawn, trying to change the topic.

"I would image you'd be exhausted after that drive, Booth. Follow me. You may stay in the guestroom tonight." Brennan led Booth to her guestroom, pulling back the covers on the bed, and pointing out the light switches, before laying a towel out on the linen chest at the foot of the bed. "Goodnight Booth" she said, before walking out of the room, closing the door tightly shut behind her. Before returning to her room, Brennan subconsciously reached out towards the door, resting her fingertips on the wooden surface. And Booth did the same on the other side, wishing he'd said something more.

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter will be a flashback scene again from another point in this story. You guys know what to do... review please, it will encourage me to write juicy storylines and make this an awesome story._

_Also, please don't write about episode spoilers for Season Six in reviews... I live in Australia, and I don't even know when the new episodes will be showing here, so don't be mean :( it's hard enough to try to avoid them in other stories.  
_

Kiz :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_"You're really doing this, huh?" asked a teary-eyed Angela Montenegro as she clung to Booth in a desperate and heartfelt embrace._

_Booth nodded sadly, before whispering in Angela's ear. "I have to. She doesn't love me, Ange, or she won't. Either way, I can't be with her. And it's killing me. Each day I have to work with her and pretend I feel nothing, it kills me just a little bit more."_

_Angela's tears fell hard as she held Booth close to her, her tears darkening a patch of Booth's t-shirt below his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you, Booth. We all are." There was only one thing that could make Booth change his mind, but Angela's vulnerability and sadness in that moment was beginning to make Booth wish he wasn't leaving._

_Angela's tears began to fall harder. "Will you come back when the baby is born, Booth?" she asked desperately. Angela had only announced to the rest of the team a few weeks prior that she and Jack were expecting, and Angela was uncertain whether or not she could go through all of this without their whole, strange, makeshift family present._

_"I don't know Ange, but congratulations either way" sighed Booth._

_Angela pulled back and allowed everyone else to have their fill of goodbyes. Hodgins was next in line and he grabbed Booth's hand in a hard handshake. "Ange is right, Booth, we'll all miss you. Even Dr B will, though she won't admit it to any of us. I'm just sorry you won't be here when Ange gives birth. We were going to make you the godfather of Jack Jr..."_

_Angela quickly jumped in. "Ahem," "Or Ange Jr" continued Hodgins. "We'd still love you to be the godfather." Hodgins laughed, thinking back to the classic movie._

_Sweets stepped up as Hodgins stood back, holding his wife as she burst into another fit of sobs over Booth's departure. "You know, Booth, you don't have to leave to resolve this... situation between you and Dr Brennan. The FBI simply could have split you up as partners."_

_Booth clasped his hand on Sweets' shoulder. "So naive" he commented. "Sweets, I either need her in my life wholly or not at all. On this, I can't meet her half way. It's do or die..." Sweets nodded in acknowledgement. Deep down, he, like everyone else, knew that Booth and Brennan belonged together. They were complete opposites, yet they worked so well together in every aspect of their lives. Perhaps now wasn't **their moment**._

_"Seeley" sighed Cam, as she folded into place in front of Booth._

_"Camille. I'm going to miss playing the name game with you, Cam."_

_"Are you sure you want to do this, Booth?"_

_Booth only nodded. "There's no other way out, Cam" he sighed, pulling Cam into a hug. And in truth, there wasn't. If there was another way to fight his feelings for Brennan, or convince her to be with him, he would've figured it out by now. Leaving was a last resort, and Booth had already played all of his cards and lost, so he was left with one last hope._

_"You just can't catch a break, can you?" stated Cam, pulling back from the hug. They both chuckled._

_"No, I guess not."_

_There was only one person left to say goodbye to, and it wasn't who he wanted, or expected it to be._

_"Seel!"_

_"Jar-head" called Booth, pulling his younger brother in for a real guy hug, slapping him on the back._

_"You're really going back to Philly? I thought you said you'd never go back." Jared, like Booth, had so many bad memories from Philadelphia, and swore he'd never return - just like his older brother had._

_Booth sighed. "Well, circumstances change, Jared, you should know that better than anyone. There was a job opening up there, and I decided to take a chance on it." It wasn't a complete lie – there were positions available at the Philadelphia Field Office, but Booth's transfer wasn't decided by better opportunities, it had arisen from a broken heart. Jared nodded knowingly as Booth stepped back towards his SUV, getting ready to leave._

_Booth almost laughed at the scene before him. "She's really not coming..." he sighed, tears threatening to fall, though Booth tried his best to keep them in check. With one last glance at his makeshift family, Booth climbed into the SUV, pushed it into drive and slowly pulled away, focussing only on the future ahead of him, a place he hoped would be free from crippling pain of love lost._

_Angela was almost catatonic as she clung to Hodgins' jacket, her knees buckling underneath her as Booth pulled away, the reality finally hitting her. Her wailing cries filled the silence which hung among the group. Sweets and Cam watched on with tears rimming their eyes, and Jared picked up rocks and threw them onto the road, trailing hopelessly after Booth's SUV._

_"She's really not coming." Angela repeated Booth's words, knowing that the centre had finally broken, knowing that the rest of their lives would be polar opposites of the last six years. Without Booth, there would be no murder solving for the team at the Jeffersonian. Without Booth, Brennan would retreat into Limbo, burying her emotions with each and every soul she identified._

_As Hodgins held his wife, he spoke out to the group. "I can't believe Dr B didn't show. Booth must be dying inside knowing that his decision hurt her **this** much." And in truth, he was. Booth's decision to leave was the hardest he'd ever had to make – to break apart everything he'd worked so hard for to keep together – to spare himself a lifetime of pain and loneliness, a lifetime of watching Brennan willingly give herself to men who cared only for her body; yet unwilling to give herself to someone who truly loved her, more than she knew._

* * *

Saturday mornings had changed a lot for Temperance Brennan. She no longer left at ungodly hours to work at the Jeffersonian; instead she lay about in bed till 9, and only went to the Jeffersonian after lunch. She also _never_ worked Sundays, instead lingering at the park near the church where Booth could be found on a Sunday morning before he left. Brennan had assured herself over the years that she did not love Booth, and she was right - she did not love him the way he wanted her to, the way he seemed to love her. She did, however, miss his companionship - his late night phone calls, or bringing her dinner at the lab while they completed paperwork. Brennan even missed Booth dragging her from the lab. She missed having someone care about her like Booth did, but most of all, she missed Booth.

This particular Saturday, though, was much different than the ones she'd had in the last three years. Instead of waking up in her apartment alone, Brennan was able to awake to the sounds of a coffee pot brewing in her kitchen – a telltale sign that someone else was present.

Sleepily, Brennan pulled on her kimono-like robe and slowly wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, where she was welcomed by a strong scent of freshly brewed coffee.

"Good morning, Bones" chirped Booth, who sat at the bench on a bar stool, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper. "How did you sleep?"

Brennan wouldn't admit to him that it was the best night's sleep she had had in years, but she also wouldn't lie to Booth through her teeth. "I slept well," she began, the sleepiness wearing off quickly as she drank from her coffee mug. "It was perhaps one of the best sleeps I've had recently."

"That's good to hear Bones." Booth emptied his coffee and took it to the sink, rinsing it out, before turning to face Brennan. "I have to get going; it was nice to see you again." His smile was weak, quite unlike the ones he used to give Brennan and Brennan alone.

As he reached the front door, Booth turned back to Brennan. "If, on your book tour, you pass through Philadelphia, drop me a line Bones. I'd love to catch up with you again, maybe in a less impromptu setting as well."

The door to her apartment clicked shut, and Brennan sank into one of her lounge chairs, feeling drained. He'd walked out on her again, yet this time she felt empty and lonelier than the last, but also hope-filled.

Things had changed between them, and Brennan was starting to realise how to fix it all.

* * *

_A/N: I'd just like to know from you guys if you like the chapter lengths. I try to make each chapter around 1000 words, up to about 1500. If you want them longer or shorter, let me know. Also, let me know if you like having the flashbacks into what happened before Booth left for Philadelphia._

_Finally, any and all ideas are welcome, so please let me know._

_Kiz :D_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, Don" shouted Booth as he waltzed in through the doors of the bureau, gently jogging after the agent in question. When he finally caught up, Booth continued "Sorry I missed your call Friday night."

The agent, Don, quickly handed Booth a folder. "It's okay, Boss, it wasn't too important."

Booth stopped at the elevator, pressing the button and waiting with Don. "If it wasn't important, why were you calling me on a Friday night after hours?"

Don looked at his feet, nervously burying his hands in his jacket pockets. "Well, Booth, you're always here, regardless of the day or time. You like to be kept updated on everything, and Johnson found our original suspect heading for the Canada border. Just thought you'd like to have known."

As the elevator doors slid shut once they were inside, Booth turned to Don, looking almost upset. "I'm not here _all_ the time, am I?"

Don just nodded. He'd worked with Booth ever since he arrived in Philadelphia suddenly three years before. He was a trained analyst with the CIA for almost fifteen years, and was almost as good at reading people as Booth was. Almost. From the first case they worked together, Don figured out that something must have freaked Booth in Washington that made him flee, but he could never pinpoint what exactly the reason was. He was familiar with Booth's partnership with 'The Doctor', but once he learned that she was alive and well, Don concluded that her death or injury was _definitely_ not the reason for Booth's departure. But being a wise old man, Don knew better than to pry into Booth's personal life. Whatever reason he left, it had to have been good.

"Look, Boss. Everyone here knows that you start early, leave late and work out at the gym at ridiculous hours. If you're not here, there or at the shooting range, then you're at your place doing god only knows what. Since I've known you, you've never strayed from that routine, nor have you left the city on any non-business related terms." As they approached Booth's office, Don closed the door behind him, slowly making his way closer to Booth. "Tollways report you were headed southbound Friday night. Look, I don't care about the who, what, when, where or why you were going that way, all I care about is that _you_, Seeley Booth, a man of strict routine, went on a whimsical adventure for no apparent reason."

Booth took his seat behind his desk, swinging around in the chair for a few moments. "She hasn't changed, you know. She's exactly the same as I remember her" he stated, gazing off into space, attention focussed out the window of his office.

Don took one of the seats in front of the desk, a quizzical look pasted across his face. "Her who?"

"Bones. I don't know why I even went back to DC, I just kind of started driving, and I ended up at her apartment building. Of course, I didn't expect her to be home."

Don was taken aback by Booth's admission – he rarely shared details of his personal life, especially without prodding. "Um, well, people's habits change over time, Booth. If you don't mind me asking, what happened when you were there? I mean, you didn't even come into the office on Saturday _or_ Sunday. Something must've happened" pointed out Don, quite suggestively.

Booth shot him a glare. "Actually, nothing happened, Don. I knocked on her door, she hugged me, and then I went inside and we... talked. And then she wouldn't let me leave – she said it was too dangerous to take the three hour drive back to Philly at 11 at night."

"Obviously she doesn't know the new you, Booth" interjected Don, half jokingly, as he slid forward in his seat. "I don't know much of your history with the Doc, but I do know that ever since you arrived here, you've barely slept five hours a night, you work yourself crazy and hit the gym for ridiculous workouts. If you had a girlfriend, I'm sure she'd appreciate your workout routine, but you don't... in fact, when was the last time you went on a date?"

Booth remembered back to his last date, almost three and a half years ago, relaying the account to Don. His journalist girlfriend from Afghanistan, Hannah, had come into his office late one night and sat down to have a talk with him. She'd explained to Booth that she'd notice his change in attitude since arriving back in America, and how he'd slowly closed himself off from her more every day. _'Something happened between you two, Seeley, and there's no use denying it. I don't know if it happened before you went to the war, before I came to Washington, or after, but you... you aren't the same man you were in Afghanistan – I finally got you to open up to me, but here, back in the States, you're closing off from me, Seeley.'_

"And then she walked out of my office. When I got home that night, her stuff was gone, and her key was on the counter next to a note. Hannah was a smart woman; I should've known she'd eventually figure out what happened between me and Bones."

"Look, Booth, far be it from me to get into your personal life, but everything happens for a reason. Life throws us curveballs to test us. I've never personally met the Doc, but it's clear that there's unfinished business between the two of you. Now's probably not the right time for you guys to work through it though. If it were, you wouldn't be sitting in that chair right now; you'd be back in DC working through your issues – together. I can tell that she's the source of all your problems, but something still draws you to her, like a moth to a flame. So, my advice" finished Don, as he stood up and turned to Booths office door, "is give it time. Be patient, and you'll get through it all."

Don quickly left Booth's office, leaving Booth to sit in silence and consider the words of advice from his friend. _'Patience'_ he thought. If anything, Booth had been more than patient with Brennan, waiting a decent five years before introducing the concept of them having a relationship. Sure, he'd probably introduced it in the most illogical way, rushing it and then quickly turning his back on the concept, but Brennan ultimately decided that nothing, _nothing_ could happen between them. _Ever_.

* * *

"So why exactly did you head back to DC?" asked Don, as he and Booth watched from behind the two way mirror, the interrogation going on in the next room.

Booth sipped from his coffee, pulling back in disgust – it was cold. "You remember how Friday was a tough day on the case, right?" Don nodded. "Well, back when Bones was my partner, if ever a case was tough, we'd just stick it out together – be there for each other. Our first year as partners, Bones identified her mother's remains from a limbo case. Her parents disappeared when she was 15, and never knew anything about them. Turns out they were crims, robbing safety deposit boxes in banks back in the 1970s. Anyway, most nights, during that case, I'd bring Bones Chinese, and we'd sit in her apartment, just talking, helping each other through it all."

Booth sighed. "I guess, the habit never really faded, you know. So, Friday, I just hopped in the car and drove, and found myself in DC, outside her apartment. She was always my rock on tough cases, and even though she was hopeless at human interaction, somehow she just always knew what to say or do to make me feel better. And seeing her Friday night, talking to her, hugging her – it made me feel better, it gave me hope that we can crack this case and get the perp locked up for life."

Don stared into the room. An agent was handing the perp a piece of paper to sign – a confession. "You know, Booth, maybe that visit gave you hope of something else" said Don, with a knowing smile, his attention focussed solely on the scene in front of him.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Agent Palmer?" Booth crossed his arms over his chest, taking a defensive stance, readying himself for Don's suggestion.

"Like I've said before, Boss, I don't know your history with the Doc, but from what you've told me about Friday night, she obviously misses you and still cares about you, otherwise she wouldn't have hugged you, and certainly wouldn't have _made_ you stay the night."

"Yeah, well, she may care, but not the way I want her to."

Don smiled. He was breaking through Booth's defences regarding his past. "And what way is that?"

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Booth led Don back to his office, not speaking a word. They stood in the far corner, behind the desk. "I worked with the woman for five years as her partner. I saved her, she saved me. We helped each other with our families. We were best friends, and partners in everything."

Booth paused before continuing. "About five or six years ago" he sighed "I started seeing things. I mean, in the circumstances, you wouldn't know I was hallucinating. First time I was knocked unconscious during a game of hockey. My helmet fell off and I hit my head on the ice. I dreamed of Luc Robitaille. The second time, I was kidnapped by The Gravedigger."

"I remember that one – she buried people alive, right?"

"Yeah, only, she knocked _me_ unconscious and locked me in a toy submarine on a Navy vessel, rigged to explode to make a reef. I breathed in god only knows what, and an old army buddy of mine, Teddy Parker, who died in action, was helping me escape. Those two incidences weren't so obvious." Don winced at the thought of Booth hallucinating, escaping with the help of a _dead_ friend. Something was definitely wrong with him at that time.

"The last one I had before Bones figured something was wrong was a few months later. We were working a case, and she wanted my... stuff to make a baby. I started seeing Stewie, from Family Guy. Anyway, she took me to the hospital and they found a brain tumour. The surgery to remove it was fine, but I reacted badly to the anaesthetic, and was in a coma for four days I think. I dreamed of an alternate universe, where she and I were married, and we didn't solve murders."

"What has this got to do with anything, Booth?"

"Look, I woke up and couldn't discern the dream from reality. I fell in love with her during my coma, and our shrink, Sweets, told me that it would fade away, that they weren't real feelings of love. Problem was, I fell more in love with her, but I kept it hidden – for a while at least. One night, we were outside the Hoover, and I stopped her. Sweets had been writing a book about us, and his conclusion was that we were in love, and that one of us had to break the stalemate. So I told her I wanted to give _us_ a shot. I wanted us to be a couple. We kissed and then she told me that she-"

"Couldn't love you that way" finished a familiar female voice, familiar to Booth at least.

* * *

_A/N: Cliffhanger... sorry guys, but this chapter is almost 2000 words long as it is, without A/Ns. I figured this chapter needed to introduce to Don, Booth's partner-in-crime in Philly, what happened to Booth. He's worked with the guy for three years and knows zip. This also answered the question of why Booth went back to DC._

_I hope you guys enjoyed it and I will hopefully post in the next few days. No promises though, I have a few assignments due this week._

_Please review... I love to hear your thoughts._

_Kiz :D_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_"Couldn't love you that way" finished a familiar female voice, familiar to Booth at least._

Booth and Don both snapped their heads towards the open office door where a woman was now standing, hands on her hips and a smirk spread over her features.

"Who's that?" whispered Don, leaning into Booth as he asked the question.

Booth stood, mouth agape, arms hanging by his sides. "What are you doing here?" Booth didn't mean for it to sound so rude, but he was genuinely shocked.

"What? Were you expecting someone else?" she asked, slowly moving into the office.

"Booth!" shouted Don, still completely lost as to who this particular person. "Booth who is she? Is she your Doctor friend?"

"No" said Booth, shaking his head as he slowly walked forward. "Nah, Don, this is Angela, Angela Montenegro-Hodgins. Angela, I'd like you to meet Special Agent Don Palmer."

Angela extended her hand for Don to shake. "Nice to meet you, Don" answered Angela, flirtatiously. Booth shot Don a warning glare. "So, Booth, why were you telling your friend here about you and Bren?"

"Hey, I asked you first, Angela. What are you doing here?" Booth gestured to a chair in front of his desk for Angela to sit in, while he sat in his chair also.

"Um, Boss, I'll just be" stumbled Don as he pointed and walked towards the office door, shutting it behind him with a definitive click.

"Alright, Booth, I'll tell you what's going on, and you're going to listen. I got a phone call from Bren Saturday morning, she was mumbling incomprehensibly for several minutes before I made any sense of it. Let me get this straight. After not hearing from you for over three years, not one letter, email or phone call, you just decide to pop into DC and say hi to Brennan?" Booth nodded, obeying Angela's orders. "Alright, and then you stayed the night and left in the morning without so much as a handshake, hug or even kiss. She didn't even get to say goodbye to you?" Again, Booth nodded. "And then you just leave without contacting any of your other friends?"

"Look, Angela, I didn't mean for that to happen, okay? I just got in the car Friday after work and..."

"No, Booth" interjected Angela, completely enraged by Booth's actions, emotion simply dripping from her words as she held back tears. "Just listen. You left. Three years ago, you put yourself before anyone else and you left. Jack had to put me in the hospital because all I could do was lie on the couch in a curled ball and cry. I had to stop Jack from calling in his guys to drag your ass back to DC. What was meant to be one of the happiest times in our life was ruined, completely devastated by your leaving Booth."

Angela stopped ranting for a minute, wiping at the tears that had gently slipped from her eyes. She took a few calming breaths before continuing. "Cam refused to accept any murder cases that came our way for weeks on end, and she just sat in her office, filling in paperwork until security kicked her out. All of Brennan's interns were sent to other departments to work before they completely lost their jobs." Angela sighed shakily, barely holding herself together.

"If it weren't for Brennan's assault on Limbo, the lab would've been covered in a fine layer of dust. In just a couple of weeks, Booth, she'd signed off on over 100 Limbo cases, all correctly identified and returned to their families. She started working those ridiculous hours... You know, she was so hurt by your leaving that she couldn't even face you to say goodbye properly. And now she tells me that the same thing happened Saturday morning. You didn't even give her a chance to say goodbye to you then either. You said your goodbyes and waltzed out of there like you were still best friends and 'just partners'."

Booth's frustration at Angela's disregard for _his_ feelings at the time was evident in his next words. "What do you want, Angela? Because I'm pretty damn sure you didn't come all of this way to explain to me how hurt you and everyone else was by my leaving. Because, you know, you guys weren't the only ones who found it hard." Venom dripped from Booth's words. He didn't want to be mean, but it was clear to Booth where Angela's loyalties lie.

"What I want, Booth, is an explanation. By midday Saturday, Bren had locked herself in Limbo again. She mumbled to me something about finally knowing the answer, or solution or something. You speak Brennan, Booth. You understand her better than even I do. You know how to get her to open up. But every time you leave, she closes up again. When you died; when you went into that coma; when you walked out on her three years ago; and Saturday morning. Each time, Booth, I have witnessed her relapse. But there's no rehab for compartmentalization, Booth. You're her key, and I need you to tell me how to get the old Brennan back."

"The answer?" Angela looked at Booth quizzically. "You said she was saying something about finding the answer. The answer to what, Angela?"

"I don't know, Booth, that's why I came to you. All I know is that yesterday, after spending Saturday night in Limbo; she locked herself in her office and spent most of the day on the phone to her publisher. Obviously you made her realise something, whether you know it or not Booth, and that something probably has to do with her book tour."

"If she's been on the phone to her publisher, Ange, she's probably changing her arrangements for the book tour. Do you know where she was originally going? I mean, my guess is she's probably changing either the cities or order of cities she visiting."

Angela rummaged through her bag for a minute, pulling out a thin folder. "She gave me this last month, in preparation for her tour – so I'd always know where she was in case something went wrong with the.. uh with the..."

Booth arose from his chair, walking around the desk to Angela. "The what?" Angela remained silent, not moving an inch or changing her expression. "Look, I get that you're hurt and mad at me Angela, but if there's something wrong... I want to help Angela. If you're in trouble, or Bones is injur-"

"No! Booth, it's nothing like that." Angela look around the room nervously. "Bren's worried that something might go wrong with the twins."

This time Booth looked around nervously. "Twins?" he asked. _'Bones had twins. With another man. In three years.'_ He thought, stumbling backwards to lean against his desk for support.

"Yeah Booth, the twins." Angela nodded down to her stomach. "Jack and I found out last week that we were having twins."

Relief swept over Booth. "Congratulations Angela" he said, reaching out to hug her. "How far along are you?"

Angela slapped Booth's hand away from her belly. "Don't get off topic, Booth. What can you tell me about _that_?" she finished, glancing to the folder in Booth's hand.

Booth flipped through the pages, looking briefly at the itinerary and focussing more on the cities. "Well," he sighed, almost disappointed, "Philadelphia's not on this list. When I left on Saturday, I said to Bones to drop me a line if she's in Philly on tour. So she might be adding it to her tour." Booth smiled weakly while Angela beamed.

"Finally" she sighed, relief washing over her as she relaxed in the chair. Booth looked at her, completely lost as to what her train of thought was. "If she's added Philadelphia to her tour, Booth, it means she's making the first move." The look didn't change, so Angela continued. "Okay, you've always had to go to her. It's always been you who's broken the stalemate, who makes the first move. If Bren adds Philly, she's making the first move – she's coming to you, Booth." Booth still looked at Angela, completely dumbfounded. "It means she wants you back in her life." Angela paused for a moment, smirking as she continued. "She might even be willing to give you guys a shot."

And that comment gave Booth the hope that things might _finally_ work out.

* * *

Booth spent the remainder of his day catching up with Angela. They discussed the changes at the Jeffersonian, Cam's love life with the OB/GYN, but especially, they discussed Hodgins' and Angela's home life (in a little too much detail for Booth's liking).

"Paige Temperance Hodgins" breathed Booth as Angela produced a photo of her daughter. "She'd be two and a half, right?"

Angela simply nodded. "She's the best parts of Jack and I. His curls, my brown hair and his piercing blue eyes. And she is so enthusiastic about _everything_. But, her biggest attribute would have to be her charm. We've got no clue where she got it from, but it could give yours a run for its money. There's nothing she can't get without a sweet smile or by giving us her 'puppy dog' face." Angela sighed at the thought of her little baby girl. "We'd still love you to come and meet her, Booth. And we still want you as her godfather."

Booth sighed. "Angela."

Angela cut Booth off. "I get it. There's other things that matter now, and you probably don't want to get stuck looking after my kids with Brennan if something happens to me and Jack." Angela glanced down at her watch, noting the time. It was after 7. "I have to go, Booth. I was supposed to be back in DC by now."

Booth reached for Angela's arm as she stood up. He handed her his cell phone. "Call Hodgins. I've got room at my place, so you're welcome to stay. It's late and probably not good for the twins if you overwork yourself." Angela smiled at Booth as she took the phone from him.

* * *

"Wow" commented Angela in awe as she climbed out of Booth's SUV at Booth's place. "How'd you... I mean, this place it's gotta be..."

"It's still public service, Ange, but I get paid a _heck_ of a lot more than what I used to. When I first moved here I had an apartment downtown, but after the promotion I saved my money and bought this place" he finished, guiding Angela into the lounge. "It's almost paid off, and with the restorations I've done over the years it's worth much more than what I've paid."

Booth gave Angela a tour of the two storey, brick veneer house. It was modest – three bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, laundry, lounge, dining and study, with a medium sized backyard and a spa on the back deck. Booth guided Angela to one of the guest rooms. "Make yourself comfortable, Angela" he said, handing her some clothed to sleep in. "The switch for the electric blanket is on the right, and I'll leave some towels for you in the bathroom across the hall. There's also a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, and there's some shampoo and conditioner and body wash there too. If you need anything, I'll be right down the hall. Goodnight Angela" said Booth as he closed the door.

* * *

_A/N: So this chapter I just wanted to explain what happened with Brennan after Booth left on Saturday morning. I also decided that Booth should work with his hands – and what better way to do that than to restore his house, and do some other handiwork around it (like fix the plumbing :D). And in season 1, Booth seemed to have a house (1x02, Man in the SUV), so I gave him one in Philly too. _

_I apologise for tricking everyone with the female in the cliff-hanger, though it was good for shits and giggles._

_Next chapter, we're doing the time jump. I won't say to when, but you'll see._

_As always, read and review. I appreciate everyone's comments from last chapter, and I'll post as soon as I can. I've got exams in 2 weeks, but after them, I'm off for 5 months._

_Kiz :D_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Three months later..._

The last three months had been exhausting for Temperance Brennan. In such a short time, she'd flown to England, toured promoting her book briefly, before flying to the West Coast of the States, starting her six week trek across to the East Coast. Brennan had started in Los Angeles, tracked east to Salt Lake City, then slowly made her way south-east to Oklahoma, Austin, and into Miami. After a week in the south, Brennan travelled north through Atlanta, Nashville, Cincinnati, then eastwards to Washington.

Her next stop, the most anticipated one of her journey, would be Philadelphia, PA – her last stop before the tour ended in New York. She had planned to spend at least a week in Philadelphia, attempting to catch up with Booth before her departure.

Since he stayed the night at her apartment three months prior in September, Brennan hadn't heard from or spoken to Booth. As much as she wanted to call him, she knew that the best approach would be to surprise him – run into him in the city by 'accident'. It was a very un-Brennan-like plan (actually, it was devised by Angela), but it seemed a reasonable approach, in which Booth would have no chance to plan something elaborate, _or_ avoid her.

Her plane had arrived in Philadelphia that morning, and Brennan and her entourage of publishing personnel made their way to the hotel to check in before lunch. She was staying at the Holiday Inn Philadelphia on Arch Street – her agent had made the booking for her shortly before arrival. Brennan was quite unaware that Booth's office also happened to be on that street, in the direction she was currently walking as she made her way to Franklin Square for a leisurely afternoon stroll.

* * *

His morning had been hectic - in and out of meetings with different agents and contractors, all while trying to sort out the details of Don's latest case.

"Take a break, Booth; you'll work yourself to death if you're not careful." Don flicked Booth's computer screen off. "It's sunny, Booth. Go outside, go for a walk."

Booth sighed resignedly. "It'll be here when I get back, won't it?" Don nodded, and Booth picked up his jacket, walking out with Don. "Lucy, I'll be out of the office for the next couple of hours. Call my cell if something's urgent, but otherwise, just tell 'em to wait." Booth turned back to Don as they walked to the elevator. "Wanna grab some lunch? We'll head to that cafe down the street."

Minutes later, Booth and Don were seated outside a quaint little cafe on Arch Street. As Booth looked around at the crowds, he saw a familiar face – or at least thought he did. "I'll be back, Don" he said, standing up and racing across the street.

"Bones!" Brennan turned her head to find the man who was calling her, but was disappointed when she couldn't see anyone. As she turned back to continue towards the park, she bumped into someone with a barely audible 'Oof'.

"Sorry" she mumbled, but when she looked up, she smiled. "Booth!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Booth's neck in a grateful hug. She hadn't expected to meet with Booth so soon, but Brennan was touched that Booth chased her after seeing her from wherever he was. "How are you?" she asked politely as she pulled from the hug.

Booth rubbed his neck, and guided her back to the cafe where he was having lunch with Don. "Pretty good. I've had a hectic morning and only just had the chance to get out for lunch. How about you?" he asked, a smile broad across his face.

Booth had been right – Brennan had added Philadelphia to her already busy schedule for her book tour – and this fact made him happy that he was _that_ important to her, even after all this time and everything that had happened between them.

"Bones, this is Don Palmer, my partner-in-crime here in Philly. Don, meet Doctor Temperance Brennan, world renowned Forensic Anthropologist and best-selling author." Brennan and Don shook hands as Booth pulled Brennan's chair out for her.

Lunch was had quickly, at least by Don, who after twenty minutes, stood and left, whispering in Booth's ear that he'd let Lucy know that Booth would be out for the rest of the day. Booth nodded his thanks as Don left.

"So, Bones, how's the book tour?" asked Booth, pushing his plate of fries closer to Brennan, who gladly picked one up and popped it in her mouth.

"Tiring" she said bluntly, helping herself to another fry. "My publisher organised so many interviews and signings for the previous months. First, she had me fly to England for some event in London, and then it was straight to the West Coast. This is my last stop before the end of the tour – New York."

"How long are you here for?" Booth asked, throwing some bills onto the table and helping Brennan up, gently placing his hand at the small of her back as they made their way down the street.

"Um, at least a week. I informed Jennifer that I had some personal business to attend to here and that I was unsure how long it would take. Although, Jennifer insisted that we be here for no longer than ten days."

The smile Booth had been wearing quickly faded at Brennan's words. _Ten days_ he thought to himself. "What was the uh... personal business, Bones?" asked Booth nervously as they walked into the Bureau. Booth had no idea why he'd walked them there, but at least it gave him a chance to show Brennan around Philly, and pick up his SUV.

"That would be you, Booth. When you informed me that I was welcome to 'drop by', I decided it would be a nice surprise to come and see you Booth. I've missed you."

In that moment, Booth forgot all of the pain he'd felt in the past three years. To know that his Bones _actually_ missed him, actually felt something other than a close connection as friends made his heart swell. A blush rose on his neck and he grabbed Brennan's hand and slammed her into his chest in a tight hug. "I missed you too Bones."

The bustle of the Bureau ceased as agents, advisors and secretaries watched in awe at the public display of affection by their boss. No one had ever seen him be _that_ intimate with another person – and all it was was a hug. As Booth pulled away from the hug, he cleared his throat, and the office spun into a nervous frenzy as everyone returned to their tasks.

"Let me just grab my coat, Bones, and I'll show you around the city" he smiled, running into his office for a second. Brennan followed him in and looked around at the various certificates hanging on the walls of his office.

"You've received a multitude of commendations while in Philadelphia, Booth" she pointed out, gently running her fingers across the frames of the certificates. It saddened her to think that their friendship in DC perhaps inhibited Booth's progression at work.

Booth chuckled nervously. "Well, when I'm not showing up at the lab all day trying to get you to eat and go home, I can get a lot more done." Brennan understood that it was a joke, and followed Booth's lead out of the office. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to go Bones?" he asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Actually Booth, I'd like to go to your place. Angela tells me I'll be impressed by it, though I do not understand why. I suppose I'll have to wait and see and make the decision for myself."

* * *

As Booth pulled his SUV up to his house, Brennan sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the side window, hands neatly folded in her lap, and she remained silent – almost as if she were a child in trouble.

"Bones" Booth called to her, and she looked up to see his warm, welcoming smile. "We're here. Come on, I'll give you a tour" he said enthusiastically. Brennan simply nodded and followed him inside.

As Booth finished giving Brennan the tour of his house, they took a seat in the lounge. Brennan was admiring the moulding around the doors and ceiling when Booth entered with two cups of coffee. "This place is beautiful. How long have you been living here?"

Booth though carefully. "About two years, maybe two and half. It was built in the early 1900s and is a lot like the one I grew up in. When I got the promotion, I decided I'd be here for a while and I needed something I could apply myself to, to keep me distracted." Brennan gave Booth a quizzical look as she sipped from her coffee. "I had an apartment under a lease, but the landlord wouldn't let me do any work on it, so I spent most weekends at the Bureau working on cases or in the gym. It was a waste of time, really, seeing as how I spent every other day of the week there."

"I wasn't unsure about your motivations for applying yourself, Booth – you are a very hands on person and you enjoy doing restorations. I was confused as to what you needed distracting from."

Booth's hesitant sigh was indication enough for Brennan that she'd delved into something that needed to stay buried. "Sorry, Booth. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Brennan began to lean backwards into the couch but Booth reached for her hand.

"You're right, Bones, I should probably talk about it to someone." Booth ran his hand through his hair, searching for a way to begin the conversation that _needed_ to be had if things were going to change between them. "When I left, Bones, I wasn't trying to get away from you, per se. I needed to get away from my feelings for you." Brennan tried to interrupt, but Booth raised his hands in protest, and then reached to take hold of hers, looking her in the eyes as he continued. "However irrational or illogical they were, Bones, I couldn't stop falling in love with you, no matter how hard I tried. I figured after some time away from you it'd be easier to be around you."

Booth sighed. "Nothing changed in the first three months while I was here. I worked myself crazy, Bones – like you used to. I tried to distract myself in every way I could think of, but nothing seemed to work. If I'd sorted things out, Bones, I would've been back in DC as soon as possible, back by your side like I said I always would be. But it didn't get better and that's when I decided I needed something to apply myself to, something I was passionate about. Hockey and football weren't enough of a distraction, so after a couple of months I searched for properties that were somewhat historical and needed restoration. This one was available, close to work and some parks and it was a good neighbourhood." Booth sighed again. "I needed a distraction from my feelings for you Bones, because I knew you would never want to give us a shot. You don't think you can love someone the way I love you, and even though you're wrong, no matter how much I tried to show it to you back then, you wouldn't believe me."

The silence filled the room for a minute at Booth's declaration, before someone finally spoke. "_I believe you now_" whispered Brennan almost inaudibly.

Before Booth could even process what had been said, Brennan leapt from her place on the couch, landing on Booth's lap and crashed her lips to his.

* * *

_A/N: Cliffhanger again, sorry. Writer's block got the best of me over the past couple of days, so it took me a while to be satisfied with this chapter. Due to the delay, it's long and kinda juicy (or hopeful)._

_Also, I've never been to Philly, nor have I ever even been in a plane. So if anyone has any ideas about places in Philly that Booth and Brennan can go to, or activities they can do there, it'd be great. I think Google is getting sick of me typing Philadelphia into the search bar._

_I won't be posting until at least Saturday, I think. I have to write an essay for Anthropology, and the words escape me. So until it's finished, I won't write on this._

_Your reviews will inspire me to write my essay, which will in turn benefit you guys cos I'll post sooner. (No, I'm not above blackmail)._

_As always, ideas and comments are welcome. I love to hear what you have to say._

_Cheers, Kiz :D_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Brennan leapt from her place on the couch, landing on Booth's lap and crashed her lips to his._

Brennan pulled back from the kiss after a few minutes, her lips swollen and a blush high on her cheeks. Since the kiss with Booth outside the Hoover on that fateful night four years ago, Brennan had remained celibate, she had not been with, touched or even kissed a man since Booth, and she now knew that she would never want to either.

As Brennan climbed off his lap, Booth scrambled from the armchair, standing quickly and taking a step back. The kiss had been incredible, sure, but there were so many issues to work through before they could cross _that_ bridge again.

Brennan took a step towards Booth and he took two backwards. "Bones." Booth's voice was warning, and Brennan knew that this was dangerous territory for them both. Every time they kissed, every time they crossed _that_ line, something around them seemed to come crashing down, and Brennan usually retreated into herself, closing off from everyone. They couldn't take that chance this time.

The fear in Brennan's eyes as she herself took a step back almost broke Booth's heart. "Oh, Bones, I didn't mean it like that" he said, stepping closer and gently brushing his fingers along her jaw. "I just want to be careful, Bones. I'm not trying to push you away." Booth led her back to the couch, taking her hands in his as they sat together. "I don't want to just satisfy biological urges, Bones. I can't do that. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to me."

Brennan nodded her head. "You want a commitment Booth. I understand that." Brennan leaned in to kiss Booth and he obliged. After moments, Brennan's hands were exploring his body and Booth let out a guttural moan.

"That's not what I meant, Bones" he said, very frustrated by her misunderstanding of his words. "I'm not gonna have sex with you, Bones. Not right away at least." Brennan let out a frustrated sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unhappy about his admission.

"You want thirty, forty or fifty years from me Booth, and I can't be sure that I can give tomorrow. You love me, but I don't feel that way about you, so how can this be any more than sex - ever?" Her words ripped into Booth's heart as he struggled to win an internal battle between his heart and brain.

Booth stood and began pacing his lounge room, hands fisted deep in his pockets while he thought through the situation. '_Bones is a scientist. She needs facts to come to conclusions'_.

Booth knew what he had to do. He had to prove to Brennan that she _could_ love someone, that she already did love so many people in her life. The only problem was finding proof to root the belief in her mind so that she could actually give them a chance.

"Bones" he said, taking his place back on the couch. "Do you remember when your dad was on trial for murder?"

Brennan looked at Booth quizzically, obviously confused by the turn in conversation. "Yes, but I hardly see the relevance here. I'm not basing the probability of failure on my parents."

Booth sighed, laughing internally at her being so oblivious. "What I mean, Bones, is that you're concerned that you can't love. But what you did for him that day – putting yourself out there as just as likely to have murdered Kirby – that takes balls, that takes a lot of care, Bones, a lot of heart. You loved your parents before they left, and you still loved your father after everything that had gone down." Booth smiled at Brennan, gently stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

Brennan nodded, reacting slightly to Booth's gentle and caring touch. "Alright, Booth, you've made a point that I am apparently capable of caring for others. But caring is not loving, Booth, at least not what you deem as loving. I can't be that person. I can't be someone who gives themselves completely to another."

Booth sighed. '_So close, yet so far away_', he thought. He wanted to correct her, tell her that loving someone didn't mean that they had to change who they were, at least not completely. Temperance Brennan could still be a world renowned Forensic Anthropologist and Bestselling author. She could still be an independent, kickass woman, who overworks herself to find the truth and bring justice to those who cannot speak for themselves. The only thing that would really have to change would be that each night, she could come home knowing someone cared deeply enough for her, and that her bed would never be lonely or cold again.

"Bones" sighed Booth as he stood up and went to grab his keys and wallet. "I'm gonna prove to you, Bones, that you _can_ love..." Booth paused, taking a slow breath "...that you can love _me_." Booth nodded his head to the front door and Brennan promptly stood and fell into step beside him. "What are your plans for dinner tonight?" asked Booth as he climbed into the SUV.

Brennan thought carefully. "Nothing yet, although I do know that my publisher has organised several dinners throughout my week here with various influential parties." Booth smiled at Brennan's use of complex language – it was something he'd missed dearly over the years.

"Alright, well you've got plans now. I'll drop you off at your hotel Bones, and I'll pick you up at around 7. It's 4:30 now. So you go up there, and get all dolled up and I'll take you out to dinner."

"Dolled up?" Booth let out a chuckle at the expression on Brennan's face.

"It means get dressed up – hair, makeup, a nice dress... yes, a dress. Don't give me that look, Temperance."

Brennan pouted playfully as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What look, Booth?" Brennan fought hard to keep the smile off her face. It was nice to be so relaxed again, for them to fall into their playful banter in the car as they always had. She missed this form of normalcy that had ensconced her life for almost six years. In the three that she had not seen Booth, Brennan had regressed to her former self, working herself to death, hardly eating and giving little care to her health. The book tour she was currently on was for the second book she had published since Booth had left, and with the angst that had developed between Kathy and Andy in those books (based loosely on the events happening between herself and Booth), she was certain she would have published a third before the next year was through – that is, if Booth hadn't come back to town and compelled her to take control of her destiny.

* * *

"Seven o'clock, Bones" repeated Booth as Brennan turned to step out of the car. He grabbed her arm gently, pulling her back in for a moment. "Don't think of this as a trip to the diner like back in DC, okay? Think of it as one of your lousy dates with those dirtbags who didn't know a good thing when they had it - only better." Booth gave her a high-watt charm smile before gently pecking her cheek and allowing Brennan to climb from the car. As usual, he watched her enter the building before driving away, only now starting to let the panic settle in. He, Seeley Booth, was going on a date. With Temperance Brennan. The love of his life.

Now, nothing and no one could stop him from having his cake and eating it too.

* * *

_A/N: I apologise for the delay in updating, but my muse escaped me. Thank you all for your comments and story alerts/favourites, they make my day :D. The next chapter will hopefully be the date (I don't see why it won't be). If anyone knows a nice, fancy restaurant in Philly, it'd be great to know._

_Again, exams soon so I may not update too often, hopefully every 3-4 days. And reviews would be lovely, they'll compel me to keep writing, and might even make my muse stick around. _

_Kiz :D_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After dropping Brennan off at the hotel, Booth rushed home to organise everything for their date. It was almost five when he pulled into his driveway, quickly racing inside to have a shower and make reservations.

While in Philly, Booth had become fond of XIX (Nineteen), the highest restaurant in Philadelphia on the 19th floor of the Hyatt at the Bellevue. He found it to be fancy, yet not overly expensive with a wide range of dishes including plenty of vegetarian options - A perfect first date for he and Brennan in his eyes.

Exiting the bathroom in nothing but a white fluffy towel, Booth quickly grabbed the phone and dialled for reservations, dropping _his_ name to ensure he got the table he desired.

Since becoming the director of the FBI in Philadelphia, Booth quickly made a name for himself, completely uprooting crimes and making the streets a little safer for citizens. His influence over media was also quite apparent, though it did not stop the occasional paparazzo from trying to find a scandal.

With reservations finalised and clothes picked out, Booth quickly shaves, dressed and locked up to head into town.

Approaching his garage, Booth was left with the tough decision of which vehicle to drive. His elevated salary and power of persuasion allowed him to purchase a Mercedes S-Class sedan, his recreational vehicle which he took great pride in. Deciding that this date would need to win him as many woo-points as possible since he only had, at most, ten days with Brennan, Booth picked the Merc and was soon on his way into downtown Philadelphia.

The reservations were for seven-thirty and Booth realised that his business in town would have to be quick, deciding first to stop by the jewellers and then the florist before making a beeline to the 'Holiday Inn'.

* * *

There was a knock on her hotel room door as Brennan was finishing slipping in her diamond studs. Sliding on her heels, Brennan waltzed to the door, carefully opening it to a charming FBI agent.

A low whistle escaped from Booth's lips as he took in the sight before him.

She was standing there in front of him in a gorgeous sapphire-blue knee-length dress, whose design was very similar to that of Marilyn Monroe's iconic white dress.

His eyes travelled down her body, taking in the way the dress clung perfectly to Brennan's curves, accentuating them flirtatiously. He stopped at the killer blue pumps at the bottom of her mile-long legs.

"You look stunning, Temperance. Gorgeous." Before Brennan could put in a protest to Booth's compliment, Booth swooped in and placed a tender, loving kiss on Brennan's cheek, presenting her with the bouquet of daffodils.

"They are beautiful. Thank you Booth." Brennan smiled as she turned on her heel to plce the daffodils in a vase of water.

When she returned, Brennan had a silver wrap draped over her arm and her clutch in hand. Booth proffered his arm, which Brennan took graciously, resisting the urge to argue that it was unnecessary.

As they waited for the elevator, Brennan took the opportunity to admire what Booth had donned for their first official date. Looking as suave as ever, Booth was dressed in, what Brennan could only imagine, a pair of expensive designer dress slacks and black shoes. His torso was covered with a satiny white dress shirt with thin light-blue lines running the length, tucked into the top of the slacks with the top few buttons undone, giving Brennan a delicious view of Booth's toned chest. If she could've picked only one thing to eat that night, she decided it would've been Booth.

* * *

"No SUV?" enquired Brennan as Booth helped her into the passenger side of the Mercedes.

"Nah, I bought this a couple of months back. I needed something other than that SUV to drive around in when I'm not on duty. Not that that happens very often.

Brennan pondered for a few minutes as they drove through the busy streets of Philadelphia. "A new house and a new car. You certainly seem to enjoy spending your money Booth."

He let out a frustrated sigh, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Look, Bones. I've worked hard for that money. Don could tell you the horror stories of what I've been through since I got here. I don't look at the house and car as splurges or impulses. They're investments, and once I'm done with restoring the house, it'll be worth a lot more. Besides, a lot of my money gets saved and not spent on me."

"Saved for what?"

"Parker" sighed Booth, quite dejectedly as he loosened his grip on the steering wheel. "I set up a college fund for Parker a few years ago and Rebecca gets a couple of hundred bucks a months for expenses and stuff. When Parker visits over the holidays, I buy him new clothes and stuff and I always pay for his school excursions. And no, Bones, I don't splurge on him. He's gotta learn the true value of money for himself. I just help with the essentials."

Brennan smiled. She was proud of what Booth was doing for his son, even though he had no legal obligations or rights.

"That's very noble of you Booth" she said, leaning across the centre console to place a gentle kiss on Booth's cheek.

* * *

"The Hyatt?" asked Brennan as Booth helped her out of the Merc, tossing the keys and a tip to the valet.

"Actually, XIX (Nineteen), Bones. I think you'll enjoy it" he finished with a knowing smirk.

"Do you often bring dates here Booth?" There was a tinge of jealousy in Brennan's voice as she asked, though she was certain that she _had_ to know.

"Actually... uh... No. You're the first person I've... uh..."

"Brought here?"

"Not exactly. You're the uh... you're the first person I've dated since I moved here." Booth began to blush profusely as they moved into the building.

"Oh... OH!" Brennan blushed too as she realised the implications of his statement. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Bones. It's not your fault. After the mess with Hannah... I kinda got a bit gun shy. It's not like I haven't had offers – I've literally had women lining up at my office door wanting a date – but..." Booth turned to face Brennan in the empty elevator, taking her hands in his, looking directly into her sparkling blue eyes. He raised her right hand to the left side of his chest, covering her hand with his.

"My heart belongs to you, Temperance. Only You." Finished Booth, leaning in to steal a quick, heartfelt kiss before the elevator 'pinged' and the doors slid open.

* * *

Over the exquisite meal ad divine dessert, Booth and Brennan caught each other up on the ins-and-outs of their lives.

"It sounds like Paige really looks up to you." Booth sipped his wine, gazing lovingly as Brennan.

"Yes, she does. And although she is only my goddaughter, I love her like I would my own daughter."

The band in the corner picked that opportune moment to begin playing a slow song, inviting couples to the small dance floor, saving Booth and Brennan from having _that_ awkward conversation.

"Dance with me, Temperance." Taking Booth's lead, Brennan followed him to the dance floor, swaying gently in his arms as the music drifted around them. It had been many years since they had last danced together – at Jack and Angela's one-year anniversary, where they held a vow-renewing ceremony which mimicked an actual wedding. Though Booth was there with Hannah, he'd still asked Brennan to accompany him in a dance, and she realised at that moment how right it felt to be in his arms.

"You are quite adept at dancing, Booth" observed Brennan as Booth twirled her out and back in, pulling her tight against his chest.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear in a teasingly husky tone "That's not the only thing I'm quite adept at, Temperance."

As the music continued, Booth and Brennan got closer together, unable to willingly separate themselves. As the band began to play 'Sway' by Bic Runga, Booth gently leaned in to kiss Brennan, his lips gently ghosting over hers, his arms bringing her impossibly close to his chest.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how he couldn't live his life without her; but he also knew she was not ready for that. Brennan, as brilliant as she was, could not be rushed. Booth had learned (or relearned) that hard lesson four years prior, when he sprung on her his wishes for them to be together. Ultimately, Booth knew that Brennan was willing, that she also wanted _this_, but he had to take his time. _'Slow and steady wins the race'_.

Their kisses grew more heated, escalating to a passionate frenzy before the song was finished. Pulling away reluctantly, Booth leaned down and pressed a kiss to the outer shell of Brennan's ear. "What do you say we get out of here, huh Bones?"

Within minutes they were in the elevator, laughing childishly as they held each other close and continued a very impromptu and almost inappropriate make-out session.

* * *

_A/N: I apologise for the delay. My muse ran out on me and I spent some time chasing her through the streets of Geelong. Next chapter will be the second part of the date – no, it's not over yet. What happens when it's time to say goodbye?_

_Also, do you guys want me to write about 'the mess with Hannah', or just leave it in the past?_

_Reviews are always nice, they keep my muse caged in my room. __:)_

_Kiz :D_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Like lust-driven teenagers, drunk on happiness and hormones raging through their bodies, Booth and Brennan spilled out onto the sidewalk outside the Hyatt, barely maintaining their composure. It had been so long since either of them had been with another person, yet as desperate as they both were for a release; they knew that tonight was not the night, not in the middle of downtown Philadelphia.

Regretfully, Booth pulled away from Brennan, taking a few moments to catch his breath in the mean time. "I'll take you back to the hotel, Bones" he offered, attempting to hide his disappointment when she gently nodded.

"Actually, Booth..." Brennan reached out and grabbed Booth's arm as he headed towards the valet. "I would like you to take me to Franklin Square. It is completely illogical, but I have a sudden desire to be surrounded by nature with you as opposed to locking myself in a hotel room." Booth smiled his signature charm smile, ushering Brennan to his Merc once the valet brought it around for them.

* * *

Being late at night, Franklin Square was mostly deserted, save the few twilight joggers and general creeps.

"There's something appealing about a park at night time Booth" argued Brennan as she dragged a reluctant Booth into the dimly lit park. "I don't understand why you are hesitant to be here."

"Because" sighed Booth. "Parks are dangerous at night, Bones. So... just be careful."

Brennan smiled devilishly, turning around on the spot and bumping herself into Booth purposefully. "Why should I be cautious? You're here Booth. You'll protect me." Her smile softened as she leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on Booth's cheek. "Just relax, Booth. Unwind, be childish and live a little. Your posture reflects that you do not care for yourself-"

Booth raised his hands in protest. "Whoa, Bones. Just stop right there. I don't care for myself? Do you have any idea how many hours a week I spend at the gym to get this body, Bones?" he argued, gesturing to his very well defined torso.

Smiling devilishly again, Brennan ran her hands over Booth's torso, admiring the careful sculpting of his muscles. "While you are certainly well defined, Booth, endless hours hunched over a work desk and excessive hours at a gym hardly equate to a healthy lifestyle. While I can admire that your eating habits have improved significantly since leaving DC, I must admit that you need to, as Angela would say, 'loosen up a bit' or 'let your hair down'. I believe she means that you need to enjoy yourself, enjoy life a bit more instead of working yourself like a dog."

She was right. Her argument was irrefutable, and Booth couldn't deny it. He didn't let himself enjoy the simple things in life anymore. His time with his son was limited and each visit was almost planned to a tee, and outside that, occasional sports and his restorations, work and the gym were the only other practices that occupied his time.

"Fine" he sighed, rolling his shoulders backwards and rolling up his sleeves. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Brennan's waist, twirling her through the air until they were both dizzy. He revelled in her joyous, almost child-like giggles and squeals, and gently brought their spinning to a rest, slowly leaning in to steal a kiss.

To Brennan, it was almost like a scene from one of the hopeless and unrealistic romance movies that Angela had made her watch over the years – the hero and heroine joining together in a joyous moment, only to be ripped from their happiness moments later by some disastrous event. Only, it wasn't a movie. It was real life, and in the minutes that they were kissing in the dim moonlight in the middle of Franklin Square, nothing had interrupted their happiness.

Pulling away breathlessly, Booth took hold of Brennan's handing, entwining their fingers as they walked around the park, admiring the fountain and the greenness of the grass.

"This has been an enjoyable first date Booth" stated Brennan, leaning her head against Booth's shoulder as he led them to a bench in front of the fountain.

Booth smiled to himself. "Really, Bones? Because, I gotta say, coming up with a decent date in just a couple of hours was kinda hard. I didn't want to let you down." Booth smiled his patented charm smile, hoping to win some brownie-points with his admission.

"I can assure you, Booth, that any date that you would have taken me on would have been acceptable. However, I find this one exciting and enjoyable. It is not often that I am taken to places of significance without there being a body involved." She smiled sadly, and Booth gently cupped her face in his hand, pecking her lips with his.

"Hey, cheer up Bones. I promise, no bodies for you to examine on this date. However, I can give you a history of this place if you'd like. We both know how comforting cold hard facts can be for you." Brennan simply nodded, staring out to the bubbling fountain in front of them. "Well, this place was one of the five squares originally designed for Philadelphia by William Penn, back in about 1682. It's served a lot of purposes over the years including use as a military drill and parade ground in the 1800s. This place is actually one of my favourite places to come to when I need to think."

Brennan looked thoughtfully to Booth "Is it because of the military background that you come here?"

Booth shook his head, a chuckle escaping deep from within his chest. "Nah. During the day, it can be quite busy here, but I still find it calming, relaxing. It's nice to get out of the office, you know."

They sat in quiet contemplation for some time, enjoying the shimmer of the moonlight on the water in the fountain. It wasn't until a flock of birds flew overhead that either of them decided to move. Booth turned to face Brennan, digging in his pocket for a small velvet box, which he then placed in the palm of her hand. Shocked, Brennan tried in vain to pull her hand back.

"Relax, Bones. It's not a ring, so stop fretting." He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Brennan's cheek before allowing her to open it up. Brennan deftly ran her fingers over the velvet of the box, enjoying the friction, before popping the lid open. Her gasp reverberated in the silence of the park as she eyed the piece lying gently on the cushion inside the box.

"Is this? How did-" Brennan flipped the lid shut and threw her arms around Booth's neck, dragging him in for a passionate kiss. "How did you know?" she asked, unsure of Booth's intentions behind buying such an item.

"Do you remember that case where the building exploded as we were escaping?" Brennan nodded her head. "Well, something like that usually doesn't shake you, Bones. It took me a few days to realise, but then I noticed that you weren't wearing your necklace anymore and that's when it occurred to me why you were always so..."

"Sensitive?"

"Short. I was gonna say short. You snapped at all of us in the weeks following that explosion" he chuckled. "A local jeweller, a friend of mine here in Philly, he's been holding onto this one for me for a couple of months. I gave him a photo of the original necklace and he built up a replica of it for me." Booth paused, sighing before continuing. "I know it's not the original, Bones. I know that this one holds no sentimental value from your childhood, but you were so distraught over losing that necklace, that I just had to do something. It's not your mum's, but I hope it will at least bring some relief." At his words, Booth gently reached out and placed his hand over Brennan's heart. She responded by holding his hand in place with hers, and looked deeply into Booth's eyes.

"I love it, Booth. Thank you."

* * *

"I have two book signings tomorrow, one at Borders and the other at a smaller bookshop somewhere in town, as well as a dinner with my publisher and some of her acquaintances" stated Brennan as she and Booth quietly walked, hand in hand, down the hallway on the fifth floor of the Holiday Inn Hotel."

"So that's a no for dinner tomorrow, right Bones?"

Brennan nodded, rummaging through her purse for her hotel keys. "Once I receive an updated copy of my schedule tomorrow morning, I will be able to arrange a suitable time for us to spend time together." Brennan slid the key card into the door and pushed it gently open. "Would you like to come inside for a drink, Agent Booth?" teased Brennan, holding the door open for Booth, making her dress hitch _that_ much higher on her thighs, before she leaned forward and placed a temptingly passionate kiss on Booth's lips.

The shrill ring of Booth's phone dissipated the make-out session in Brennan's doorway. Booth cursed, staring at the number before hitting 'end call' and sliding his phone into his pocket.

"It's just Don, Bones, I wouldn't worry too much" he charmed, waltzing into her hotel room, gently dragging her behind him by their fingertips. Realising Booth's intent, Brennan reciprocated by pouncing him, sending them both flying against the nearest hard surface – the wall – for an impromptu make-out session, Brennan's hands busily working at the buttons of Booth's dress shirt, and Booth's hands exploring the curves of Brennan's body.

Another shrill ring broke them this time, however not from Booth's phone. "Dammit" he cursed under his breath, reaching for his pager.

_911. Come to your office ASAP. Laurence Case._

Brennan watched as Booth's brow furrowed. "I'd love to keep going, Bones, but duty calls. Raincheck?" he asked, slowly backing to the door as he struggled with his buttons.

Brennan instinctively swatted Booth's fumbling hands away, redoing the buttons she so effortlessly undid minutes before. "While I am finding our current activities quite enjoyable, I understand and respect the demands of your job. I would much enjoy continuing... _this_" she eyed Booth up and down seductively "at another time. Goodnight Booth" she smiled, leaning up to kiss Booth as he stepped into the hallway.

Waiting for the elevator, Booth couldn't decide which was harder – leaving completely three years prior, or leaving now, knowing that there was a woman – _the_ woman, the love of his life – waiting for him in a hotel room, all by herself. The world sure seemed to hate him, timing everything against his best interests.

Karma is a bitch, but duty calls.

* * *

_A/N: Last chapter I asked if people wanted to know what 'the Hannah mess' was. Some wanted it, others didn't, so I've decided that I will write it and publish it separately, for those who did want to know what happened._

_I still appreciate ideas for dates and things, they don't necessarily have to be in Philadelphia, just around the area, not too far away._

_And yes, this story does have a point, and next chapter will reveal more of what exactly that point is._

_As always, reviews are appreciated, especially since I have exams starting Thursday._

_Love always, Kiz :D_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I apologise for the delay in updating, faithful 'Hey Jealousy' fans. I take full responsibility. Who knew being sick during exams could be so taxing? This could perhaps be my last post from Geelong in 2010, and I'll hopefully be updating later in the week though. And now for..._

**Chapter 10**

Don, like Booth, was a career oriented man, willing to sacrifice his life to serve his country, to bring justice to those who had been wronged. And that's why, at an ungodly hour in the morning, he was pacing impatiently through the Bureau's bullpen, waiting for Booth's arrival after making a long-overdue advancement in their Laurence case. The tip he'd received had spun his mind into overdrive, dots finally connecting and leads being able to be made.

"Booth" he called, seeing the elevator doors slide open as the light above them flashed '8'. Grabbing the file off the desk, he fast-paced across the room to fall into step beside Booth. "Anonymous tipper called in twenty minutes ago with information about Laurence's whereabouts, but..." Don finally took note of Booth's attire and dishevelled look. "Oh, sorry, Booth, did I interrupt your date?"

Booth huffed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "The point, Don?" Booth snatched the file from Don's hand, flicking through it, his eyes widening at the sheet of paper paper-clipped to the top.

"Yeah, you see why I called you in here? Tipper is claiming that he's hiding out somewhere west of Philly, in a warehouse or something. The other thing is that there was another MPR filed earlier this evening. A young woman, brunette, mid-thirties was kidnapped outside of a bar on 15th Street shortly after 8."

"Wait" stopped Booth, leaning against his desk as he looked up from the file. "A missing persons report filed when someone witnessed the kidnapping?" Don nodded his head, sorting through another bunch of files on Booth's desk that he'd placed there earlier.

"Yeah. We brought the boyfriend in for questioning, said he thought that they were being followed since about lunchtime, but couldn't pick any specs. We're pretty sure it's Laurence's groupies, but there's always a chance that it's just a stalker, because she's real looker." Don whistled low as he scanned the profile photo, passing it to Booth who tensed upon looking at it.

"This is the girl?" Don nodded again, confused by Booth's irritation. "Alright, I'd say you're spot on with the Laurence thing. Keep an eye out for a ransom note or call. Something's gonna show up in the next 24 hours, so we need to be on alert. With this tipster, we're bound to cross paths with Laurence in the next couple of days, and he's gonna slip at some point."

"Do you want to talk about it" asked Don, daring to pry into the dangerous territory of Booth's personal life.

"What's there to talk about? In the morning, we'll assemble a team and set up a briefing. I wanna see how far we can get on this new lead. I mean, Laurence has been getting away with this shit for years, and we've been on his tail for almost six months."

Don chuckled at Booth's passion for the case. It was something he admired about Booth – dedication to the task at hand. Yet he also feared for Booth for the same reason. Booth had no life outside of work, at least, not an eventful or unpredictable life. After meeting the Doctor the day before, Don was hopeful that Booth's life could turn around and he'd get out of his rut and live a little.

"I wasn't talking about the case, Booth. Have you looked in the mirror? Because, if I didn't know you so well, I'd say I called you in the middle of, well, let's just say 'personal time'." Don chuckled again at the absurdity of it all.

Subconsciously, Booth's hands reached up and flattened out his hair, then reached to his neckline to pull at the tie that wasn't there. Clearing his throat, Booth began to spurt an explanation. "Well... I may have been..."

"Getting it on with the good Doctor?"

"No!... I mean, not exactly. It... just... never mind, I'm here for the case. So, mind out of the gutter, back on earth and on the case at hand." Don sighed, relinquishing the interesting conversation of Booth's personal life. "Kidnapping. Assault. Extortion. Laundering. Murder. We should have enough leads to catch this guy, but in the last six months, I'm pretty damn sure we've gone backwards." Booth threw the file onto the desk in utter frustration, and Don cautiously approached him, gently patting him on the shoulder.

"It's way past midnight, Booth. You can't be expected to solve this case right at this moment. We'll get him, but for tonight, go home. Go home to the good Doctor, let her give you a _physical_" he said with a smirk "and get a good night's sleep. We can start fresh in the morning."

Don quickly turned to leave, but he wasn't quick enough to escape the wrath of Seeley Booth, who threw the football shaped stress ball towards Don, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

"That is not why she's here, Don. You and I both know it. So scram, get out of here and quit prying" replied Booth jokingly, picking up another stress ball to throw at Don as he waltzed out of the office.

* * *

It wasn't something he enjoyed – being alone with his thoughts in his office. Spinning aimlessly in his desk chair, Booth glanced around the room at the sporting paraphernalia and mementos he'd collected over the years, the commendation certificates and various photographs of him and the team at the Jeffersonian. His newest addition to the photos on his desk was that of the Hodgins' – Jack, Angela and Paige, laughing happily in a spur of the moment photo taken at the last Jeffersonian Halloween Party.

Sitting behind the photo of the Hodgins' was one of Booth's favourites – Brennan, Parker and Max at a Science Fair, proudly showing off Parker's first place project of the human skeletal system. It had been taken shortly before Booth had left DC, and he was thankful every day that he had a photo of Brennan with his son, so happy and carefree, relaxed and just being herself without any anthropological pretence.

As he continued to stare at the photos cluttering his desk – memories of times long gone – Booth sighed. Ever since he'd made the impromptu trip to DC three months prior, Booth had vowed to turn his life around, he wanted to be a better man, someone free from the burdens of his past, and he wanted to share this newfound life with Brennan, _his_ Bones. And that's why he was willing to spend the next nine days trying to prove to her that she could love him, that she was as open and capable of love as he.

Instead of hankering down on the Laurence Case, Booth spent the night (or early morning, if you will) attempting to plan things for he and Brennan to do while she was in Philadelphia – Brennan coming to believe in love relied heavily on Booth's attempts at wooing her; if they failed then he failed her, and he wasn't willing to take that chance again.

Before the sun rose, Booth had already Googled and listed many activities to do in Philadelphia that he thought would be suitable and enjoyable for both of them – some of the museums, historical sites and the Liberty Bell for Brennan; Penn's Landing (including the ice rink) and canoeing on the Brandywine River for himself. He also planned to take Brennan to one of his favourite wineries, Chaddsford Winery.

As much as he wanted to win over Brennan's heart, Booth knew that he'd be a hopeless 'boyfriend' if he was completely bored at _all_ of the things they did and if Brennan didn't enjoy any of the activities because they were too 'alpha male'. By the time Don waltzed into his office at 8, Booth had, surprisingly, planned most of the activities and made arrangements for them.

* * *

"You know, Booth. That suit looks an awful lot like what you wore out last night" chuckled Don as he took a seat on the corner of Booth's large desk, picking up the football and tossing it between his hands.

"Ha ha, Agent Palmer, very funny." Booth quickly stood up, swiping his arm across the table to knock the football out of Don's grip.

Leaping out of the way of Booth's next swipe, Don continued his taunting of Booth. "You know, there's a perfectly good king size bed in your house, I don't understand why you prefer to sleep in your office chair as opposed to a comfy and soft massive bed."

Reverting to his former grumpy self, Booth braced himself against his desk and countered Don's accusations. "Okay, Don, let's get one thing straight. I do _not_ sleep in my desk chair. I did _not_ sleep here last night. After that phone call called me here for an '_urgent_' update on the Laurence case, which turned out to be useless because the entire team left and we simply have a kidnapped person with no more information, I _utilised_ the night to plan my week ahead. Bones is in town for nine more days, and I have that time to convince her that she _can_ love me. So Don, I'd appreciate you cutting the crap with the jokes about my lifestyle choices."

Don took a frightened step back and raised his hands in defeat.

"Sorry" sighed Booth, slumping into his desk chair, realising he'd been a _tad_ harsh towards Don. "Any news on our kidnap victim?"

Don shook his head. "Not yet. We're expecting a note sometime this morning, but until then we've got nothing new to work with."

Booth stood up, picked up the jacket draped on the back of his desk chair, grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out the door. "In that case, I'm gonna head home for a shower, change of clothes and a couple of hours of shut-eye. Call me if you need anything else or if there are any _decent_ developments." Booth's emphasis on 'decent' warned Don not to call if it was something as useless as another kidnap victim with no note, or a ransom note that led nowhere.

"Uh, Director Booth, before you leave, your doctor is on line 1, and she's adamant that it's urgent." Lucy nodded to the phone, and the look of concern on her face indicated to Booth that it was indeed _very_ urgent.

* * *

Sitting behind his desk once again, Booth reluctantly picked up the receiver and pushed the 'Line 1' button.

"Director Booth" he answered, tone serious as it usually was when he answered his office phone.

_"Booth"_

"Bones? What're... never mind. My assistant said that it was my doctor on the phone."

_"I may have mentioned that I was a doctor" she teased._

"What's this about, you said it was urgent. Do you have to up and leave to New York already?" Booth was seriously concerned as to why Brennan called his work phone directly and not his cell.

_"Oh, yes, I needed to hear your voice" Brennan giggles before continuing. "Actually, I'd like to say thank you for last night, and thank you for the beautiful daffodils that served as my wakeup call this morning."_

"Oh, shit, Bones. I'm sorry. They were meant to be delivered at 7:30. I could've sworn I said 7:30."

_Brennan giggled again, something she rarely did... ever. "They were delivered at 7:30, Booth. There's no need to apologise, I guess I just slept in. You must've tired me out last night Booth."_

Booth smiled in pride. He, Seeley Booth, had tired out _the_ Doctor Temperance Brennan, on a simple and hardly physical first date. "Well, Bones, I'm sorry for keeping you up for so long. And I'm sorry I had to bail, Bones. We got a lead in the case that I'd hardly call a lead until something else shows up." He paused for a few moments before continuing. "When are you next available Bones? I thought maybe we could get some lunch or something today." Even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it, Booth plastered on his charm smile.

_"Actually" began Brennan in a serious tone "that's why I called you. My publisher's dinner got pushed to lunch today, so I'm free tonight, but I highly doubt that I could make it to both your lunch and that of my publisher at the same time."_

"So you're free tonight. Alright, Bones, I'll pick you up at 6:30 from your hotel. Dress casually but warmly. I'm going to take you out for an adventure."

A few quick goodbyes and a cheery smile later, Booth was waltzing out of his office. "Lucy, forward any important phone calls to my cell. I'll be out for the rest of the day." And with that, Booth was out the door, wearing a massive, cocky smirk, ready to finalise his plans for him and Bones for the evening.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I really wanted to get this chapter posted before I move on Saturday (your Friday for those in the US). So instead of studying diligently for my two exams on Friday, at 9 and 1:30, I spent my Thursday trying to get this chapter done, as my last official post from Geelong. It saddens me that I must leave the place which introduced me to the world of Fan Fiction, to my obsession with Bones and the realisation that I truly do love writing (I've missed it while I finished high school).

_Enough about how sad my first year at Uni has been. This chapter is mostly boring, but hopefully it will reveal more of where the story is leading to (maybe). So enjoy..._

**Chapter 11**

Despite having spent the last two and a half months traipsing across the country, training herself to focus on the interviews and conversations with various tabloids and magazines, Temperance Brennan found herself entirely distracted during this lunchtime meeting with her publisher.

The date with Booth the night before, however abruptly ended it may have been, had left her thinking about all of the missed opportunities they'd had over the years. Brennan could not keep her mind from wandering to the possibilities of the week to come – the elaborate (or simple) dates that Booth had planned for them both, and Brennan felt something swell deep inside her at the thought. The anticipation was so intense that she was unable to focus on the conversation at hand between her publisher and some author (she hadn't taken note at the beginning of the lunch), so Brennan excused herself to the bathroom, to splash some water on her face and attempt to concentrate.

* * *

On the opposite side of town, though, Booth was calling in a few favours from friends. As it was a Friday night, the ice-skating rink by the river was going to be open until 1AM, but Booth pulled in a much owed favour from one of his old army buddies and had it closed off exclusively to himself and Brennan – just like the time he'd had a concussion all those years before. He wanted them both to remember the good times they'd shared over the years, and not just all of the bad things that had come towards the end, and he knew that ice skating was something they could remember together – it was one of the few times where Booth was the teacher and Brennan was the student – and Booth prided himself in the fact that she willingly let him take the lead. He'd shared some personal stories about his family that night on the ice, so to him it truly was something special between them.

With his plans for the evening finalised and the time still before lunch, Booth decided to head back into the Bureau, work through some of the developments on the case and distract himself from fretting about his plans with Brennan for the evening. He knew throwing himself into his work was a bad way of dealing with situations, but Booth also knew it sure as hell beat sitting around his house all day doing nothing.

* * *

"I didn't expect to see you back here so soon" called Don across the bullpen as he watched Booth saunter through the doors. Sighing, he reluctantly made his way over to his superior, file in hand.

"I take it there was no ransom note for the latest kidnap victim" sighed Booth dejectedly, leaning against one of the supporting columns throughout the room.

Don shook his head. "Not exactly..."

Booth groaned. He'd known Don for long enough to know that there was going to be a hell of a twist in _this_ particular kidnapping.

"Follow me" coaxed Don, walking toward the elevators with Booth in tow, still flipping through the file.

Thankfully they had the elevator to themselves. "There was an... incident earlier this morning, about an hour ago. I was about to call you when you walked in. I'm gonna warn you right now, you're welcome to throw up once you see what I have to show you."

The elevator pinged as Don led them through the small hallways in the basement of the building. He pushed the door to the morgue open, holding it for Booth to step through. "Stephanie, you know what to do." They followed the coroner, Stephanie, a woman in her mid-thirties of Asian decent, into the back of the morgue. She pulled open a slab door and pulled out the tray.

"Director Booth, before I lift the sheet, the bin's over there" she pointed to her left at the small pail in the corner of the room. "Be warned, it's not so much gruesome as it is... creepy. Not to me, but it rocked Don, and we all know how hard it is to shake him."

The fact that the coroner was _warning_ him, worried Booth. He'd seen some strange things over the years working with Brennan, and some even weirder things in Philly through drug rings. It was rare for him to be shocked by a crime scene, let alone a body on a slab. "Just get on with it," he sighed, waiting for Stephanie to life the white sheet.

"Sonofabitch" he cussed under his breath, slamming his fist into the nearest wall. Don physically winced, retreating into a corner of the room, far from Booth. He'd known Booth would take it badly, but this was beyond what he'd expected from someone who seemed so calm and in control of their emotions.

"Where was she found?" It was perhaps one of the hardest questions he'd ever have to ask, and by the look on both Don and Stephanie's faces, Booth knew the answer was going to be bad.

"Uh, Booth..." Don nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "She wasn't so much... found... as... discovered?" Don turned to Stephanie, who simply shrugged, throwing the sheet back over the body. "A plate-less car drove by the Bureau this morning and literally... threw her out the window and onto the steps."

The slamming of Booth's fist into the metal panels of the slabs indicated that Booth was none-too-pleased by the news. Pulling out his phone, he hastily dialled and barked a few orders into the phone before slamming it shut. Taking a cleansing breath, he regained his composure and continued his line of inquiry. "Okay, well I guess from _this_" he gestured to the pulled-out slab "we can presume that Laurence has a pretty good idea of the goings on around here."

"Are you suggesting that..."

Booth sighed, hanging his head in failure. "He knows Brennan's here, and he knows what's going on."

"He's just trying to mess with you now Booth, we both know it."

Booth chuckled as they walked out of the morgue together. "Yeah? Well he's doing a bang up job of it, I'd say. I think the note stuck to her speaks for itself" finished Booth, holding up the sheet of paper saying 'BACK OFF'. "I mean, it's written on the friggin' dust jacket of her latest novel, the one _yet_ to be released. I'd say he's got some decent connections around here."

Back in the elevator, Don punched the button for the 8th floor again. "Well, stats show" he began, crossing his arms over his chest "that his change in M.O. means he's gonna slip up, and that's our chance to catch him."

Booth snorted. "Change in M.O.? Seriously? How is _this_ outside his M.O.? Kidnapping. Murder. I'm pretty sure he's changed nothing."

"So naive" chuckled Don. Being a few seasons older than Booth, Don had some decent experience with serial killers in the past, back before Booth was probably even thought of. "By making this one a message, a message to you, he's changed the game-"

"This is not a game" scolded Booth, "Especially not now."

"To Laurence it's a game. And he thinks by having this knowledge about your Doctor that he's got the upper hand. We just have to play it smooth, and let him keep thinking that. By doing what he's done here, we've got new evidence, new particulates and a new feel for the guy. He _knows_ we're closing in on him, so he's had to step up his game to throw us off. Frankly..." closed Don, stepping out of the elevator, "He'd have been better off doing nothing at all."

* * *

Booth stepped out of the elevator in awe. He couldn't believe that Don thought that his- well he didn't really know what to call her now, Partner? Friend? Girlfriend? – that Brennan being in danger was a _good thing_. "Don" he shouted, jogging through the masses of people crowding the floor space and walkways in the bullpen to catch the man. Lowering his voice, Booth continued "we keep this between us. What we know about Laurence's motives stays between you me, and Stephanie in the morgue."

"You suspect a rat?" Don asked, guiding them into his office.

Booth nodded. "Think about it. How many raids have we had on the guy to catch him?"

"Too many to keep track of..."

"Exactly. And how many times have we been unsuccessful? _Every_ time we do a raid, he seems to be one step ahead of us. It might not be one of our guys, he could just be really smart or have a tap on us, but it's a bit suss that he's managed to stay this far ahead of us for this long." Don nodded. "So you me and Steph remain the only ones that know about it. The rest can just think that it's just the kidnap victim and Laurence got hasty or bored or whatever." Don nodded again. "Right, well I'm gonna go call Bones and warn her. You let me know if anyone finds out about anything or if we have another person like this show up or disappear."

Booth made his way into his office, taking a seat on the couches, his thumb wavering over the call button on his cell. He was hesitant to call Bones, it was, after all, her 'holiday', her time away from the world of murderers and corpses, and he didn't want to dampen her eager attitude towards _them _with gritty details of how she was the latest target in the Laurence Case.

Instead, Booth tossed his phone onto the coffee table and took the photos of the latest victim out of the case file, examining them and the minute details. The woman had been thrown onto the pavement outside of the FBI building around 10:45 that morning, wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing when abducted the night before. There was, however, a difference to her appearance. Booth noted her likeness to Brennan, something which he did not picked up on the night before. She was a tall brunette, with gorgeous blue eyes. Her background in no way resembled that of Brennan's, but physically, they were both very similar. If Laurence had one of his gang-bangers eyeing the FBI and Booth, then for sure he would know the nature of Brennan and Booth's relationship, and he would also know that the best way to crack Booth was to go after Brennan – it was a proven fact. Yes, Booth was certain that this victim was a message to him to back off (note the warning taped to her body on the back of the dust jacket of Brennan's _unreleased_ novel). However, Booth presumed that Laurence hadn't realised that going after _his_ Bones would only encourage and motivate him to catch Laurence, instead of pushing him away – call it a side-effect of his 'white knight' syndrome.

* * *

Booth and Don spent the remainder of the afternoon in Booth's office, mulling over the finer details of the case. They were both certain that somehow Laurence had eyes and ears inside the Bureau, whether it was a bug or a snitch, so both remained overly cautious as to what they said when they weren't behind closed doors.

"What about releasing false info to the guys in the bullpen?" suggested Don, standing up to get himself another glass of water. "I mean, if it's a snitch, he'll go running to his informant or whatever, but if it's a bug, we know they won't buy it."

Booth sat in quiet contemplation over that idea for several moments. "Alright, I have an idea for it. Pass me the phone and I'll call Bones, and then we'll play out the second part of my plan later."

_"Booth? Why are you calling? I thought we were going out later." Brennan was slightly frantic as to why Booth was calling her so early.  
_

"Yeah, we are Bones. I just called to ask you to meet me in Franklin Square in fifteen minutes. Can you do that?"

_"Sure Booth. What's wrong?"_

"Nothing, Bones. Just meet me there in fifteen minutes. That's all I ask." Booth placed the phone back on the receiver.

"Alright Booth, what's going on?" asked Don, arms crossed over his chest defensively, eyebrows coked in inquisitiveness. Booth was yet to share the plan with him, and he had a suspicion that Booth was going to be _very_ sneaky.

Booth leaned across to Don and whispered in his ear, explaining the plan that was going to unfold very quickly.

* * *

Booth stormed out of his office at an alarming rate, with Don fast in tow. They'd been arguing in his office for the past few minutes, arms flailing in heated arguments, files and stress balls being tossed around the room in frustration.

Booth quickly double-taked, turning to face Don, his finger pointing accusingly at the other agent. "I don't care that we have a case, Don. I'm the boss and I'll be damned if you're going to stop me from going out for a late lunch."

Don slapped Booth's hand away. "What? With your Doctor friend? Seriously, you'll happily abandon an ongoing serial case for some afternoon delight with Dr Brennan in Franklin Square? You know that's a family friendly place, right?" Don shook his head in disappointment at Booth's willingness to break the law.

"There's no 'afternoon delight', Agent Palmer. We're just friends. That's all."

"Yeah, and that's why you can't keep your hands off her. You know what, maybe it's better you leave the office to do that. I don't need these agents getting any ideas off you and the Doc, they're already like a pack of horny teenagers as it is. Geez."

With that, Booth stormed off towards the elevators, leaving Don to deal with the truck loads of questions bound to come from the other agents in the bullpen.

_"Hope this works, Don"_ whispered Booth to himself before the elevator doors closed in front of him.

* * *

_A/N: Loved it, Hated it? Let me know? What will happen when Brennan heads to the park? And how will Booth react?  
_

_This is officially my last post in Geelong for 2010. As I said above, I'll be sad to say goodbye to this place, but I'll be back here again in 2011, if I pass my exams that is. I won't stop posting because I'll be back home, in fact I may post more frequently since my only distraction will be casual hours at Safeway._

_Until the next post, Kiz :D_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: So as a gift to you guys because I've been a snob for over a week, I thought I'd make this chapter extra long, it's over 4000 words long. _

_Just a warning, this chapter is definitely **T** if not **M**, so don't read if you're not meant to..._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 12**

It was almost 4 pm when Booth met Brennan, a block and a half away from Franklin Square at a little cafe.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now Booth?" questioned Brennan, as she was hastily pushed into the cafe. "Because I don't appreciate being kidnapped from my hotel!" Anger coursed through her veins as she sat down at a table not too far from the window, Booth's hand clamping over her mouth. She was on her way down from her room to meet Booth when he grabbed her and took her out of the service entry for the hotel.

"There's reasonable suspicion, Bones, that you're Laurence's next target. So we're here and not at Franklin Square, to keep you safe."

"So, what?" she began, standing up from her seat and bracing her hands on the table, making a scene "I'm a decoy? You're using me to catch the bad guy? Geez Booth, and here I thought that over the years you'd been here that you were less obsessed with closing cases. I guess I was wr-"

Booth yanked Brennan down, clamping his hand over her mouth as appalled patrons watched on in awe. "Shh" he whispered, waiting for her to calm down. "You're not a decoy, Temperance." Booth stared into Brennan's eyes, willing her to understand with his gaze. He brought her face closer to his, his hands tunnelling in her hair. "I would _never_ make you play such a role without your knowledge of the situation."

Brennan nodded silently and Booth placed a chaste kiss on her lips. She was seated on his lap sideways, her hands sitting in her lap, head turned so she and Booth could whisper to one another. To anyone observing the scene, they were just a couple deeply in love, having a private conversation in a public setting.

"You're not a decoy. You're not cannon fodder. You are a victim, a target, and as my charge, you are my responsibility and I must keep you safe. Don and I reckon that Laurence has someone inside the Bureau keeping tabs on our movements. Since we _know_ that you're a target, we've played the snitch. If Laurence or any of his men show up at Franklin Square, we know for sure there's a snitch. If no-one shows, then we know there's a bug planted – probably in my office and the main bullpen – and we'll have a sweep done to find it and track where it's being transmitted to."

Brennan nodded again, still slightly dazed from Booth's unexpected kiss. "How do you know I'm a target?" Genuine concern rocked through Brennan's core at the realisation that somehow Booth had come into the knowledge that Brennan's life was under threat.

Automatically, Booth's right hand unthreaded itself from Brennan's hair and landed on his neck, rubbing nervously as he tried to think up an excuse. "Well..." he stammered, his mind torn between telling her the truth – something she would appreciate – and keeping her in the dark for her safety. Sighing, Booth made a decision and proceeded. "When I got called away last night, someone had been kidnapped. This morning, not long after I headed home, that person turned up at the bureau-"

"They told you of Laurence's plans?"

"Not exactly... she didn't so much tell as show. Her body was tossed out the window of an un-plated car and onto the steps of the bureau."

"So, a note?"

"No" Booth sighed again, knowing that Brennan wouldn't stop hounding him until she had the truth. "She was abducted around 8 last night, and when Don called me last night on the date, that's what it was about. I shrugged it off and told Don to call me when there was something we could actually work with. So he did – or was going to. I walked into the office just before he was going to call me. He took me to see the victim down in the morgue. It wasn't anything grisly, but both the coroner and Don warned me that it was going to be disturbing..."

"Was it?" asked Brennan innocently, deeply enthralled by Booth's retelling of everything he'd done since he left her the night before.

"Bones, let me make this as clear as I can. When you look at a body in the morgue that is strikingly similar to your date, it's cause for concern." Booth stared directly at Brennan while he admitted what he saw. There was no quiver in his voice, no uncertainty that he was freaked out about what he saw.

"It was fucking disturbing, Bones, to look at a victim who looked _exactly_ like you. If that wasn't a warning, a _threat_, then Laurence is just some fucked up, twisted guy, trying to get his rocks off."

Innocently, Brennan looked up to Booth "I don't know what that means..."

Booth sighed – not out of frustration at Brennan misunderstanding yet _another_ colloquialism, but rather it was a sigh of relief, relief that there was some semblance of normalcy between them again. A soft chuckle escaped Booth as he reached up and tucked a stray strand of Brennan's hair behind her ear.

"What?" asked Brennan, suddenly feeling quite self conscious, her arms wrapping around her stomach in defence.

Smiling, Booth began to blush as he explained "I miss this... us." Seeing Brennan's confusion, Booth continued. "You and me, just relaxing and enjoying each other's company like we used to, before..." Brennan nodded, stealing a quick kiss.

"Come on, Booth, shouldn't we go and find out if Laurence fell for your trick?" This time it was Booth who stole a kiss, chucked a few bills on the table and walked out with Brennan in tow. Once in the street, Booth pulled out his cell.

"Talk to me Don, are our guys in position?"

_Don was quick with his reply. "Yeah, Booth. We've spotted a few known associates, but we can't move in until we're definite that Laurence got the tip from the bullpen. You'll probably have to enter the park with the Doc to make certain that we've got a snitch. We've got guys stationed all throughout in civvies."_

"No way, Don. No way. Bones isn't walking anywhere _near_ that park unless Laurence's guys are cleared out."

Booth heard a crackle on Don's side of the phone, then a few mumbles. _"Uh, Booth, you might wanna check around you. My guys spotted Doctor Brennan walking towards the park without you."_

Booth quickly spun around and watched as Brennan determinedly stormed towards the park, hands swinging by her sides like a woman on a mission. Flicking his phone shut, Booth chased Brennan across the street, stopping her half a block short of the park.

"Bones, I want you to think about this. Laurence has connec-" He was cut off as Brennan slammed herself into Booth's chest, leaning up to kiss him passionately, Booth's hands involuntarily wrapping themselves around Brennan.

"If you won't let me go in there, then we have to convince the men that we _were_ planning on going in there." Brennan quickly stole another heated kiss, sneaking her hands up Booth's torso under his shirt. "Let's go back to my hotel" she said with a wink and a sultry smile, dragging Booth down North 6th street towards her hotel.

He was helpless to resist, abstinence having weighed heavily on his sex drive for the last three years, and finally, _finally_ the woman he wanted was asking _him_ up to _her_ hotel room – how could he refuse that? Three steps and two arms lengths in front of him, Brennan was dragging Booth by his arm in teh direction of her hotel while he remained in his daze about the situation.

* * *

As the elevator pinged, Booth finally broke from his reverie. "We can't do this Bones" he stated, trying his best to pry the needy anthropologist from himself as she endeavoured to make out with Booth in the lobby.

A whimper escaped her as Brennan untangled herself from Booth. "It's alright, Booth" said Brennan, her fingers reaching to grab Booth's hand. "Take a look at where we are." Brennan waved her hand around the lobby where they were currently situated, and a furious blush quickly crept up Booth's neck and cheeks.

He'd been so lost by Brennan's implications that Booth didn't even realise that Brennan had dragged him to the FBI, not her hotel, and wolf whistles were now beginning to echo around the lobby. To save Booth _some_ embarrassment, Brennan shoved him inside the elevator.

"Don has some surveillance equipment set up in your office. He says you can monitor the operation from there, without putting me in any danger" quipped Brennan, her arms crossing defensively across her chest in an attempt at mock displeasure. "I can take care of myself, you know." Her right foot was gently tapping the floor now as Booth's arms came to rest around her waist.

"Yeah, so you keep telling me, Bones. But you have a tendency to run towards a fight, not away from them, which was clear earlier when you left me and headed straight for that park." The doors opened to floor 8, and Booth and Brennan graciously stepped out, a professional demeanour settling between them. "You do know Laurence has excellent connections. And I _refuse_ to take you out on our next date until we defuse this situation."

Brennan turned around abruptly, just short of Booth's office door. "What?" Her hands were braced on Booth's chest, her eyes looking longingly up into Booth's. "We're not going on another date until you catch Laurence? That could be years Booth. It's a ridiculous timeframe to make someone wait for a date!"

Booth wanted to throw in her face the years of waiting he'd already done for Brennan to get to this point, but he knew it would be irrelevant. He'd decided, the moment she walked up to him in Philadelphia, the moment _they'd_ decided to date, that they would have to start with a clean slate, and Seeley Booth never backs down from a promise. Instead, Booth simply chuckled. "I'm not going to make you wait years, Bones. Just until we can figure out how he's spying on us."

Brennan nodded her agreement. "So basically, if we can tell if he has guys at the park, we can go out tonight? What if they don't show?"

Booth sighed. He had to hand it to Brennan – she could turn a simple conversation into a complicated, multi-layered heated discussion. "Well, we do a sweep of the office for bugs and we take it from there. If there's not bug, and he doesn't have someone on the inside, then we probably won't be going out tonight."

An FBI agent picked that moment as an opportune time to interrupt. "Uh, Director Booth Agent Palmer is on the phone and requests to speak with you." The agent, who was obviously greener than freshly snapped twig, handed Booth the phone and graciously walked away.

"Tell me some good news, Don" grumbled Booth, ushering Brennan into his office before closing the door.

_"Confirmed I.D. on several of the patrons in Franklin Square; at least three are known and confirmed accomplices of Laurence, and there are about four or five suspected. Shall we bring them in for questioning?"_

Booth pondered for a moment, looking out of his office window at the bustle of the city below, and then to Brennan, a plan formulating in his mind. "Call for backup, I want as many of these guys caught as possible. Assess the situation, check for possible weapons before proceeding. I don't want any cock-up's on this one, Don, not now that we're so close to catching the guy. I'll be there in about five minutes."

* * *

By 7, Booth and Don had brought in all of the suspected accomplices of Laurence for questioning and holding overnight, despite the fact that it was a weekend. Booth had also found the time to share his plan with Don, and sent Brennan back to her hotel to get changed, before he picked her up at 7:30.

"I know tomorrow's a Saturday, Don, but just go with me on this one. I'll bring the coffee, you just get your butt here by 7, and we'll get started."

Don nodded, packing a few papers into hi bag before heading out of the office for the night. "I'll see you in the morning. But Booth, make sure you at least take the night off. I'd hate to see her walk out of your life because you were too obsessed with your work." Booth sighed and nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, well I've got a hot date lined up tonight for us. I only hope I can turn in early enough to be able to get up for _this_ in the morning" finished Booth, his hands gesturing to the already high pile of paperwork forming on his desk for the case.

Don smirked, a low chuckle escaping him. "Why, Agent Booth, how could you let such a woman keep you from your work?" he teased, making his way through the bullpen towards the elevator.

"Believe me, Don. I'd give up _food_ if it meant I could spend every morning waking up with her beside me." He was only half joking; Booth was prepared to give up whatever he had to to keep Brennan from leaving his life again. Booth had spent his years in Philadelphia reflecting what _exactly_ had gone wrong between them, and he wasn't about to repeat any of those mistakes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Booth. Say 'hi' to the missus for me" and with that, the elevator doors closed on a grinning Special Agent Don Palmer.

"Right" muttered Booth to himself, as he shuffled some papers, locked his office and set out for the night.

* * *

"Ice skating?" queried Brennan as Booth gently led to her to the entrance of Blue Cross RiverRink. They had already enjoyed a relaxing dinner at one of the small bars along Penn's Landing before making their way to the night's main event.

"Yeah, Temperance, ice skating." Booth took a step back from Brennan, eyeing her up and down before continuing. "You're not afraid of the ice, are you Bones? Because if I remember correctly, you told me that you have 'a lot of natural athletic ability'. You wouldn't wanna prove yourself wrong, now would you Bones?" Brennan was still hesitant, the worry clear on her face. "Besides, Bones, don't you have a 'steep learning curve'?" mocked Booth.

With that, Brennan laced up her skates and confidently stepped onto the ice, Booth not far behind her. "I may have a steep learning curve, Booth, but I found that my teacher was somewhat... _lacking_ in his abilities." Her raised eyebrow showed her challenging demeanour, and accepting said challenge, Booth quickly skated around the rink, twisting and turning on the ice, jumping, skating backwards; his talent running rings around Brennan's.

"Admit it, Bones" coaxed Booth, skating alongside Brennan as she struggled to stay upright. "Admit that I'm talented, and we can end this standoff, and start enjoying our _date_."

As she landed on the ice for the tenth time in just a few minutes, Brennan sighed. "Alright Booth," she said reluctantly as Booth stopped in front of her, his hands just out of reach of hers. "Alright, you're better at skating than I am. Now I would appreciate it if you quit your gloating, helped me off the ice and taught me how to skate properly." He reached his hands out to Brennan, and Booth pulled her onto her feet, skating behind her and replacing his hands just above her hips.

"It's all about balance, Bones. Just breathe, relax, and focus on your balance."

Booth pushed off, skating at a slow pace as Brennan was gliding in front of him. After a few minutes of silent skating, Booth finally spoke out.

"Do you have any regrets?" Brennan turned her head to look as Booth and fumbled forward, clasping onto Booth's arms to keep from face planting onto the ice.

"Regrets about what? Us?"

Booth sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I mean regrets about the time we spent as partners. Is there anything you wish had happened, or wish you'd done, or even wish hadn't happened? There's gotta be something."

Brennan thought carefully as she pulled up to the edge of the ice rink, looking out at the expanse of the river before her as the moonlight glinted down on them.

"There are some things, I guess, that I would've done differently. I shouldn't have gone to Maluku – that's something I've thought a lot about; how things would've happened if we both hadn't left. But I don't like to rethink things like that, time travel is impossible and I can't change what has happened."

Booth chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around Brennan's waist from behind her, looking out at the water with her. "I know, Bones. But we're only human and we can still dream; we can still reflect on past events. That's part of the reason I go to church, Bones. It gives me a chance to look back on everything that's happened to me and see where I let it go wrong. And I don't blame anyone else or make excuses for what did go wrong – because, ultimately, _I_ could've changed the outcome of those things, not someone else." HE paused for a moment, giving Brenna the space she needed to process what had been said. "Is there anything else you regret?"

"Not regret, per se, but I do think about that night on our very first case..."

"Ah, tequila, my lonely friend" joked Booth. Brennan turned and playfully slapped his chest.

"I wonder what could've happened if you'd have gotten in the cab with me."

Booth looked down into her eyes, searching for what she'd come up with. "And..."

"And..." continued Brennan, on a sigh, "I've surmised that we would not be _here_, metaphorically, if you had come home with me. By keeping our relationship strictly professional, we have been able to form basic foundations for friendship, and ultimately a romantic relationship. I believe that if you had gotten in that cab, that it would've simply been a one night stand, or perhaps a short-lived relationship, which would have burnt out like many previous relationships I have shared."

Brennan took a few moments to gauge Booth's reaction to her admission. "Ultimately, Booth, I prefer what we have now. I would take all the everything that we have collectively been through to get to this moment over a short-lived relationship all those years ag-"

Brennan never got to finish her confession as Booth's lips found hers in a passionate, yet tender kiss, stealing her breath as he held her as close as humanly possible.

They stayed that way for a while, just enjoying each other's company, with no pressure to start a conversation, while they slowly skated around the rink, Booth keeping Brennan balanced at the same time.

"What about you?"

"Huh, Bones?" Booth asked, shaken from his reverie.

"Do you have any regrets Booth? After all, I doubt you would have brought up the conversation topic if you didn't have any regrets yourself."

Booth's smile, which he'd happily been wearing for the last half an hour or so, quickly faded as he thought of a response. "Like you, Bones, there are some things I would like to have done differently, but overall, there's no regrets. Everything happens for a reason and happens eventually, so the path we took to get here, Bones, was the one we were meant to take."

He offered her one more smile before closing the distance between them with another passionate kiss.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky and the couple had been skating on the ice for almost two hours. A few passersby had gathered around the rink on Penn's Landing to watch the pair as they gracefully danced around each other on the ice, laughing and giggling as they twisted and turned in circles without a care in the world.

An old lady watching the exchange turned to her a daughter, a woman somewhere in her twenties, and asked "how long do you think they've been together?"

The younger woman stared at the couple on the ice, who were now standing still holding each other in a passionate embrace, replied longingly "Probably eight or nine years, married for most of it" she sighed. "I don't really know, Mum, but I'm jealous of that woman."

Curiosity got the better of her, and the old lady called the couple over. "Excuse me for interrupting. My daughter and I were just wondering how long you've been together. She thinks almost a decade, but I think it's just a couple of years."

Booth and Brennan looked at each other, all smiles and trying their best to refrain from laughter.

"Although your daughter is mostly correct," began Brennan in a clinical tone, "we have known each other for almost 11 years, have been partners for six and a half of those, and have been separated for the last three years-"

Booth began to chuckle, placing his hand on Brennan's forearms and spinning her to him. "Bones, I think they mean how long have we been dating." Booth shook his head at Brennan's furrowed brow, a smile still plastered lovingly and adoringly to his face.

"Well, in that case... We have been dating for two days. This is our second date."

"Two dates" repeated Booth, holding up two fingers when the two women looked utterly confused.

After a few moments and a chance to break through the initial shock, the younger woman spoke up.

"And you've never dated before now?" Booth and Brennan both shook their heads. "Kissed?"

"Well..." began Booth, slightly taken aback by the question.

"Actually, there have been three-" Brennan turned to Booth who nodded, before turning back to the women. "Three separate occasions where we have kissed, but there are legitimate reasons." Brennan paused, counting the times on her fingers. "Tequila..."

"A bribe and mistletoe..." added Booth

"And pure desperation..."

"Whoa... What Bones?" Booth's jaw almost hit the ice, and the two women looked on amused.

"Wha... come on Booth, you have to admit you were a little bit desperate to get me to see your reasoning."

"Desperation's a little harsh, don't you think Bones? Couldn't you have said it was part of an experiment? Or... or a persuasion technique? ... Yeah! A _persuasion technique._" Booth smiled goofily, his hands gesturing to emphasise _his_ choice of words.

"Hardly a _persuasion_ technique, Booth, it still didn't help, although I admit that I do regret ending that kiss. After all, you are an excellent kisser..."

The two women had watched the exchange in front of them, the couple seemingly in their own world, despite being in public. "Do you two always argue like this?"

"We don't argue... We bicker" replied Booth and Brennan in unison.

"Well, I guess that answers our questions. Enjoy your time together and whatever you do, don't take it for granted."

The two women walked away, once again leaving Booth and Brennan alone in the moonlight. Grin in place, Booth turned to Brennan, and with a raised eyebrow asked "You really think I'm a good kisser?"

She knew she'd be stroking his ego, but Brennan simply couldn't resist pulling Booth's head down, bringing his lips within millimetres of hers.

"Of course you are... and don't you know it!"

The heat from the searing kiss that followed could've melted the ice they were standing on.

* * *

The tumblers in the lock clicked and the front door swung open, a rush of warmth hitting Booth and Brennan like an inferno blast, a complete contrast to the chilly Philadelphia night air.

His body slammed into the back of the door as it was pushed shut, and Brennan's mouth was back on his, assaulting his lips and stealing his breath away. Booth's hands quickly found their way to her jacket buttons, undoing them with precision, minimal effort and in record time. Tugging it off her shoulders, Booth somehow managed to hang Brennan's jacket neatly on the coat rack by the door while simultaneously being worked on by Brennan's talented hands and mouth.

After a quick make out session on the ice, resulting in Brennan and Booth both laying on the freezing ice, they made their way to Booth's car, hands exploring and groping, while mouths ravished and thrashed in the midst of their passion. Miraculously, and neither knows exactly how, Booth rushed through the Philly Friday night traffic and safely arrived at Booth's house, where they continued their make out session in the comfort and warmth of the car, before making their way inside, to where they were now hastily trying to undress each other.

Dragging him by his shirt, Brennan coaxed Booth out of the foyer and into the lounge room, dropping him on the couch before straddling him, all the while her lips never breaking contact with his scorching skin. Divesting him of his jacket, Brennan then made quick work of Booth's t-shirt, while he expertly worked on popping open the buttons of, what he now considered to be his favourite blouse.

Brennan's jeans were the next to go, as Booth picked her up by her thighs and she wrapped them around his slender hips before Booth carried her in the direction of the stairs in the far corner of the room.

A moan escaped Brennan as Booth's talented hands snaked their way up her torso to cup her breasts, expertly caressing and groping, giving Brennan maximum pleasure despite the lacy fabric of her black bra separating Booth's hands from making contact with her skin.

"Bed! NOW!" demanded Booth, his voice a carnal, unrelenting, non-negotiable growl. Brennan's back slammed into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, her back arching in pleasure from Booth's ministrations, as her hands worked on pushing Booth's sweats from his hips towards the floor.

Somehow, almost miraculously for the second time that night, Booth and Brennan made it up the stairs, a trail of clothes and underwear in their wake as Booth pushed his way into his bedroom, dropping both of their naked bodies onto the king-sized bed.

Booth climbed and hovered over Brennan, his gaze loving and admiring every inch of Brennan's exposed flesh as he came to understand the reality of what was about to happen between the two of them.

"Beautiful" whispered Booth, as he stole a passionate kiss from Brennan, his hand slowly dragging up the outside of her thigh and over her hip, eliciting a moan from Brennan.

"Mine!" breathed Brennan, dragging Booth right on top of her, willing him to finally take their 'partnership' one step further...

* * *

_A/N: And the end... just kidding. I hope the length and content of this chapter made up for my being a snob this past week and a half._

_Hope you all liked this chapter. I'd love to read what you all think (hint: leave a review :D) and I'd just like to know if this chapter should've been rated M or still T, cos I'm not entirely sure which one it would fall into._

_I'll write again soon, I promise_

_Kiz :p_


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed last chapter... you made my day :D. There were some interesting comments, but I love you all for the reviews and I'm glad you're enjoying this story. And sorry for the delay, between work and my computer having spaz attacks, I ended up writing half of the chapter by hand.

**Chapter 13**

_She woke with a start as the clock chimed midnight. Rain pelted against her bedroom window, a rare spring storm had come rolling into DC over the course of the evening. She wiped her tear stained face, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks where the tears had rolled only hours before._

_It was the third night in a row she'd woken at exactly midnight. Deciding that, once again, sleep would be elusive until some unforgivable hour of the morning, Brennan tore herself from her bed, pulling on a colourful satin robe and making her way down the hall to her office to find something more productive to do._

_It was her fault he'd left, a fact which she'd long ago accepted, despite him only being gone for a week. Thoughts constantly ran through her mind, thoughts strange to her, where she ran through different scenarios of what she could have done to make Booth stay. 'You should've taken that chance, believed in him, believed in fate.' 'Why didn't you get in that cab on that rainy night?' 'If only you'd gone back inside for one more drink... one more drink after that damn Gravedigger case.' 'Perspective? Really, you knew where your heart belonged, with him, solving murders, not digging up ancient remains.' 'If only you'd stopped him from walking out of that bar on that fateful night...'_

_These thoughts haunted her always, and as Brennan sat in her darkened office waiting patiently for her laptop to load, she swiped at the tears that ran down her cheeks unwillingly. 'If only...' Brennan knew where the mistake was. She was the mistake, every choice she had made to keep them as 'just friends' or 'partners' was a mistake. Had she realised just how much she needed Booth, perhaps things would have been different, and she would be happily asleep in his arms._

_Thunder rolled in the background, drawing nearer by the minute as the rain and wind thrashed against her office window, a symbolism of her inner turmoil on this night. Her fingers raced across the keyboard of her laptop as she began her newest manuscript – a rectification of all the wrongs in her life at the moment through the characters in her book._

**_Kathy had been fast asleep on her couch when there was a knock on the door, a knock which startled her awake by the pure intensity and consistency. Realising just who it was, she bounded from her couch to the door, swinging it open and throwing herself into the arms of her visitor._**

**_"Andy..." she sighed contentedly as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her nearer. Kathy tilted her head, her gaze meeting his as she stared him down. "Yes" she nodded._**

**_Andy lifted her up, swinging her around as his lips descended on hers. Something awakened deep within himself, a dormant creature set free by her acceptance. Andy's wildest dreams had finally come true, the woman he had loved for so long was now with him, in every sense of the words. For so long she had simply been his partner, then friend and then, as the guys in the Bureau put it, his 'sack buddy'. But she wanted more. She wanted more with him and he'd be damned if he didn't jump at the chance._**

_The words stopped flowing as Brennan came to realise that all she'd ever wanted, all she'd ever needed was him, her knight in shining FBI Issue body armour. She'd always thought that a career was all she needed, because feelings were ephemeral and people come and go in one's lifetime; at least, that's what she thought until now. Brennan knew she needed Booth. But she was too late, and as she had done all those months ago, she would sit in the sidelines and accept Booth's requests. She would give him the space he needed, and when the time was right, she would act accordingly. She would make the first move, she would break the stalemate._

* * *

"We can't do this" groaned Booth, the strain evident as he pulled himself away from Brennan to lie on the bed beside her. There had been so many talks of moments and missed opportunities that night, and all of the lessons they'd learnt about each other, about _them_ over the years were almost thrown out the window in the midst of a passionate frenzy. It was perhaps one of the hardest decisions Booth had ever made, but he knew that tonight was not their night. There was work to be done, bad guys to be interviewed, and despite Booth's ability to snap back after a late night and early morning, it wasn't responsible for Booth to be having a great night with the woman he loved while everything else in the world, in his world, was still so wrong – at least, that's the way Booth felt about the entire situation.

"Everything happens eventually" sighed Brennan, releasing a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. On some level, Brennan felt disappointed about how her evening was now ending, but another part of her was glad. She'd arrived in Philadelphia two days prior, and was now in a relationship with Booth after not having seen him in over three years, except for the one night when he'd shown up at her apartment. Brennan was slightly relieved that the pressure to perform was off her – she wasn't sure that she was ready to take _that_ step with Booth just yet. Of course, she'd 'satisfied biological urges' with guys she'd met half an hour before at a bar without feeling the need to be prepared or to meet expectations, but she had to admit that this, between her and Booth, was different from all of those times.

Except, this wasn't a 'booty call', as Angela would put it, this was ten years in the making – ten years of pain, suffering, turmoil, joy, patience. Ten years of being there for each other and always wanting more, yet never being able to take it, never being granted true happiness with the one person who understood them and their situation the most. Simply put, it was 'Booth and Brennan' through and through. Yet nothing with them, between them was ever simple. Everything was complicated to a genius level, and sex could _never_ just be sex with them.

Brennan made a move to climb from the bed and gather her clothes, but a warm arm lazily wrapped around her waist held her back.

"Stay" cajoled Booth.

"I should go, Booth..."

"You _should_ go?" asked Booth with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head, chuckling lightly as he watched the frustration cross Brennan's face. "You _could_ go, but you're welcome to stay, Bones."

Brennan glanced around the room worriedly before she fixed her gaze on the moonlight filtering in through the curtain, afraid to meet Booth's gaze. Innocently she asked "but... but won't it be awkward?"

Again he chuckled, but brought himself closer to Brennan, the sheet from his bed now wrapped around his waist as Brennan pulled the doona up to cover her chest. With a gentle and caressing hand, Booth ran his knuckles up and down Brennan's arm, looking up into her eyes with a loving gaze.

"It _could_ be awkward, but it doesn't have to be."

As Brennan stared back down into the loving chocolate eyes of her boyfriend, she realised just how safe and secure she would always be with him, no matter what was thrown their way. Everything with them was complicated, but in some twisted, fated way, Brennan knew that they would always work it out.

"Alright" she said simply, laying down and leaning into the naked body of Booth, curling up comfortably before they both drifted off to sleep, happy and content.

* * *

Booth had been right. Waking in the morning was not awkward for either of them; in fact Booth and Brennan fell into a routine as though they'd been sharing a bed for years on end. Even though it was a ridiculous hour that Booth had woken up at, with very few hours of sleep, he felt as though it was the best he'd slept in a long time, and was dreading the day before him.

A quick breakfast and a lot of time wasted (or not) making out in Booth's SUV found Booth dropping Brennan off at her hotel before dashing down the street to his office to meet with Don.

* * *

The ding of the elevator signalled the arrival of his Boss, and Don stood leaning against a desk in the bullpen, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time that minute. It was rare for Booth to be late for anything work related, especially when he picked the meeting time, but Don was finding his tardiness to somehow be a direct result of Booth's interactions with the Good Doctor.

"A little trouble getting out of bed?" smirked Don, uncrossing his arms and following Booth through to his office. He took in the dishevelled appearance of Booth and realised it was either a _really_ good night or a _really_ bad one, but either way it was a night spent with Brennan doing something he thoroughly enjoyed.

On the rare occasions Booth had spoken of his partner in the previous years, Don had learned just how much Booth enjoyed their casual bickering, and he felt proud that he was able to emulate that aspect of a life forgotten, even if it was to a lesser extent.

"Can we just get through these guys, Don?" quipped Booth as he snatched the files from his desk and stormed towards the elevator to go to the holding cells. It was clear to Don that whatever had happened to Booth on his date the night before, he really didn't appreciate having to head into the office at a ridiculous hour.

* * *

Five suspects down and eleven agonising hours gone by, Booth and Don found themselves sitting in front of the sixth and final suspect, John McLeod, Laurence's right hand man. He was a scruffy looking bloke with a handlebar moustache and long greasy black hair, the kind of guy you knew not to mess with. He'd been sitting in silence for over twenty minutes, not a single sound passing from his lips as Booth and Don paced the tiny interrogation room in the basement of the building, adjacent to the holding cells where the other five men were now situated.

"So explain to me this, then. Why were you and your 'homies' hanging around in Franklin Square, armed?" Booth was leaning against the mirror, arms folded over his chest as he watched Don do the interrogation. He wasn't particularly in the mood to be stuck in a dingy basement room at 5 in the afternoon, on a Saturday no less, when there were much better things, people, to keep him occupied.

"Give it up, Don" croaked Booth, his voice raspy from screaming at the other five guys. They had enough cause for warrants and arrests, but Don wanted to nab McLeod almost as much as he wanted Laurence. "It's no use; you know he's not going to talk."

Don caught onto what Booth was playing at. It'd been a long while since he'd seen Booth playing prisoners at their own game, and honestly, he'd missed seeing Booth having so much fun at it. Fortunately, though, McLeod hadn't picked up on the cockiness of Booth's stances and tone as he wandered around the room. Booth, for sure, was going to catch McLeod slipping up within the next hour.

"Yeah, I guess you're right" sighed Don, his tone unnervingly calm for an interrogator, yet still, McLeod picked up on nothing.

"So, on our paperwork Don, we'll just throw in that suspect was uncooperative and was therefore in no way involved in the preceding events. We'll BS our way through most of the mumbo-jumbo, but that's the basics of it right?"

Don nodded avidly, his fingers grasping the file from the desk as he watched the confused look on McLeod's face.

"So, I'm free to go right?" he asked, moving to stand, but quickly sitting down when he saw the look on Booth's face.

"Oh, far from it" replied Booth casually, taking a seat and clasping his hands on the table, leaning in closer to McLeod. "In fact, with the list of things here, we have enough to throw you in jail for, what" he glanced to Don "twenty to life?" It was a total lie. The other five men had been armed, but McLeod was in that park, weapon free, and wandering around just like any other reasonable citizen. They had no cause for arrest for McLeod, unlike the other guys.

"Wait... what? Twenty to life?" Booth smirked as he watched McLeod's disgust at the statement. "Twenty to life for bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time? You gotta be kiddin' me?"

"Well..." cajoled Don, drawing out the word as he considered the other options. "You could... no... that would never work... maybe, but..."

"At the moment, _Johnny_" teased Booth "we can't _disprove_ that it was a case of 'wrong place, wrong time', so unless you give us something we can work with, you'll be thrown in the slammer.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, McLeod was briefing Don and Booth on some of the plans formulated by Laurence. There were some of the more basic plans – extortion, laundering, and theft – but as McLeod went into further detail, he began to explain some of the darker plans that Laurence had been working on.

"See, he got word that your lady friend was high profile, and he's figured out that she's the best way to get to you, Agent Booth."

The expletive that left Booth's mouth shocked Don, and he watched on in awe as Booth physically winced at what McLeod had just told them.

Criminals in the past had figured out that Brennan, and even Parker, were the best ways to get to Booth, yet hearing from McLeod that Laurence now had this information made him physically ill.

"So it is true?" McLeod had been fishing, kind of. He'd known that Brennan was important to Booth, but whether or not she was the way to break him hadn't been confirmed, at least not until now.

"That's not what matters" interrupted a now irate Agent Palmer, slamming his fists on the table as he spoke. "Tell us Laurence's plans for Booth and the Doctor, or we'll throw your ass in the slammer for impeding a Federal investigation!" Don's knowledge of the law was by no means restricted to the basics learned by training for the FBI. Before serving a stint in Vietnam, he'd graduated from Harvard University with a degree in public Law. His knowledge of the law gave his interrogations an edge of brutality when he could find a legal reason to keep someone in jail from something as simple as an unpaid parking ticket.

McLeod wasn't one to scare easily. But the threat of spending time in jail was enough to make him squeal like a little piglet. He'd spent time in Juvi, and then served time in his twenties for various offences, but now that he was almost 55, McLeod was _not_ willing to spend, what could be, his last years in the slammer.

"He wants to psyche you out, man" confessed McLeod, sitting casually, leaning back against his chair. "He doesn't actually have to physically do anything to you; he just wants to throw you off your game, which, if you ask me, he seems to have done a bang up job of."

McLeod continued to prattle on about Laurence's plans for another half an hour or so before Don and Booth headed upstairs for a coffee.

"We can't exactly let him go now, can we?" asked Don.

"Well," debated Booth, sipping his coffee, "what _can_ we hold him on? Conspiracy?" he joked. "But seriously, we have no proof that he was in Franklin Square to kidnap Bones or commit any other crime. We don't even have proof there _was_ a conspiracy to kidnap her."

Don paced frantically in the hallway. Booth was right; there was nothing obvious to hold McLeod on. "Alright, I've got a plan Booth. You may not like it, but we'll see what we can do. We try and get McLeod to confess who the snitch is, and then we'll see what dirt we can get to throw the other guys in jail. It's not ideal, and it's hardly a win-win, but we don't really have another option. At least this way we can get some of Laurence's lackeys off the street."

* * *

McLeod took the deal. He ratted on the other incarcerated men, giving the FBI enough to lock them up for a good couple of decades. However McLeod denied knowing of a snitch in the FBI.

"Look, sure I'm Laurence's right hand man, and I do half of the dirty work, but he doesn't always share the details with me. He says some plans are best if they're kept silent. He knows you've sent guys undercover to us, but he's smart enough to know not to kill them – that gives the FBI reason to bring him in for questioning. So some plans, he keeps quiet, even from me. I aint heard nothing about a snitch in the last decade, so I can't help you there." McLeod clutched his hands together on the steel table, leaning forward as he did so. Cocking an eyebrow, he fished "so where are we on the letting me go thing? Cos I gave you plenty of intel."

Booth knew they'd been played like a couple of marionettes, only, he wasn't too sure who the puppeteer was at the moment.

"Something's off about this Don" commented Booth. He just couldn't shake the feeling that McLeod was keeping something from them.

"Yeah, well what are we gonna do Booth?"

"He just, he so readily ratted on the other guys..." Booth was still in shock over McLeod's confessions.

Don simply chuckled. He'd been a cop a hell of a lot longer than Booth, and Booth's naivety often brought him joy. "Oh, so young" he commented, a hint of nostalgia lining his voice as he reminisced days long gone. "You'll come to learn, Booth, that bad guys will do that. If ratting on those men gets McLeod outta jail, he'll jump at the chance. Hell," he proffered, "If we'd said 'eat a pound of horse shit and you're free', he'd probably have done that too. Besides, and I don't mean this offensively, but he's gotten something out of ratting on those guys. He's free, and he has intel about us too. Like he said, they only _thought_ that the Doc was a way to get to you. Now they _know_."

"I guess we've gotta look on the bright side, right Don?" chuckled Booth, even though he was kinda freaked out by Don's last statements.

Don nodded. "That's the spirit. Now, why don't we high tail it outta here? It's a Saturday night, we've been here since the crack of dawn, and I don't know about you, but I've got someone at home waiting for me."

Booth smiled sadly, picking up the last of his things from his office before walking out. Over the years he'd always wanted someone to come home to, someone who loved him as much as he loved them, and for a brief while, he did.

Hannah.

She'd been a temporary pain relief for Booth, someone who helped him through, what he considered, some of his darkest times. He'd been so taken by Brennan, so in love with her for so long that when his world came crashing down around him the second she said 'no', he thought he'd never love another woman again. Then when Hannah came on the scene, things began to look hopeful for Booth, and his heart began to heal.

It was true, he loved Hannah, but never in the way that he loved Brennan. And maybe the fact that Booth came back from Afghanistan loving another woman was what had kept Brennan at bay since their return. He had given Brennan all the proof she needed that love was ephemeral, fleeting when he returned, thus proving to her that his feelings for her could change, just like everything else in life.

Yet, Hannah's love for Booth had never been enough for him. He had never been _in_ love with her, he just simply _loved_ her, something which she picked up quite easily once they were back in DC and she had met Brennan. And that's when everything came crumbling down in Booth's life again. When Hannah had left and Booth had declared to Brennan his love, she was still reluctant to start something with Booth, to move their relationship past 'professional', refusing to admit that she had _any_ feelings for Booth beyond the norm for co-workers.

Booth had hoped, in all of his wildest dreams, that a jolt of reality, the idea that someone, somewhere, someday, might have Booth all to themselves, would have been enough to make Brennan jealous, to break through to her and help her to be open to the idea of her and Booth sharing something more between them. And because the world is twisted and cruel, it hadn't happened, and once again, Booth was left on his own to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

On that sad thought, the thought that all of his past plans to win over Brennan's heart, or anyone else's for that matter, had failed, that there was no one to go home to, Booth gathered his things, switched off the lights and made his way to the elevator in darkness.

* * *

_A/N: Like? I don't like angst, or sadness for Booth, but I couldn't help writing it here. I feel that it's important for where this story is heading._

_Let me know what you all think, I love getting your reviews :D_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_I would like to give a shout out to the **three** people who reviewed last chapter (**PercyzBookworm, luckywynner86 and mendenbar**). I would also like to say that this chapter was... difficult to write. I had the ideas, the beginning, the ending all planned out, it was just difficult to say what needed to be said. So reviews would be nice. I'd love to know if you guys want me to keep going with this story, because as each chapter comes, it's getting harder and harder for me to write it._

_

* * *

_

He didn't see Brennan that night, or at all on Sunday for that matter. Brennan had been busy with interviews and book signings for her book tour all weekend. She had, however, managed to schedule in time to have a few brief conversations with Booth over the phone at night time, discussing their respective days and arranging a date for Monday afternoon.

Booth had spent the better part of his Sunday morning planning the date for Monday. There would be no fancy restaurants, no special connections or string pulling this time. It would be Booth, Brennan and some of the finer historical sites of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

His afternoon, however, was spent venting his frustrations over the case at hand at the local gym, thrashing the boxing bag with all of his might. It, perhaps, wasn't the best coping technique for stress, but Booth figured it was much better than spending an afternoon at the FBI shooting range, emptying clip after clip into a lifeless paper target until he felt better. At least, he thought, this way both he and Brennan could enjoy the benefits of Booth's vigorous, albeit unhealthy, workout.

Monday morning came too quickly for Booth's liking. Despite having taken the afternoon off to show Brennan around Philadelphia, Booth was _not_ looking forward to the mountain of paperwork he knew would be waiting for him at the office.

So in a vain attempt to make the afternoon come quicker, Booth hauled himself from the comfort of his warm bed, and into the bathroom for a shower.

The knock on his front door twenty minutes later startled Booth, and he was quick to grab his shirt off the back of the dining chair and throw it on before swinging the door wide open.

"You could've called, Don" commented Booth, turning on his heel and walking back into the house as he fidgeted with his collar, none too pleased with who'd shown up at his door, or _why_.

Don followed closely behind Booth. "Yeah, well this couldn't wait." He handed a folder to Booth, who flicked through it, wincing at the contents as he read the reports.

"I guess we know who the snitch is, huh?"

"He was found in a ditch last night in the bad part of town by a couple of teenagers. My guess is McLeod told Laurence we figured there was a snitch and he knocked him off."

"Could be..." shrugged Booth, "Or it could be the fact that he was given a tip which led to five of his men being incarcerated, and figured it was a setup."

Booth slipped on his holster , then his tie, before shrugging on his jacket. "I hate dirty cops" he mumbled.

"Dirty cops? C'mon Booth, you know that it comes with the territory. There's not much we can do about it."

"Yeah, I guess" shrugged Booth as they made their way to Booth's SUV. "But most guys only come across one or two dirty cops in their entire career. But Roberts is what, my fifth or sixth in less than 20 years. I guess I'm just a bit over them..."

"Why? What? Did you have a bad run in with some dirty cops?"

Booth's defeated look was all the proof Don needed. "What happened? Did one kill your partner? Or was it your partner?"

"Almost and No!" came the automatic response from Booth.

"Wait, What?" Don's eyes widened at the realisation. "The Doc? He went after the Doc?"

Booth wrenched open his driver side door. "I don't wanna talk about it!" he said, and slammed the door shut behind him in finality.

* * *

Casework for the morning was slow going. The autopsy of the snitch, Tom Roberts, was taking longer than anticipated, and the arrested men were resisting to give further information on Laurence and his plans.

Sauntering into Booth's office and grabbing the football from the desk, Don slouched down into one of the chairs opposite the desk, tossing the pigskin between his hands.

"She survived, didn't she? I mean, she wouldn't be here if you hadn't saved her."

Don watched Booth's expression darken, and Booth reached out his hands to grab the football off Don.

"Point is, I almost didn't, alright?"

Don was hesitant to pry. Booth's past was kept under lock and key, and he of all people knew that if Booth wanted, or needed to share, he would. "What happened?" he finally asked, sighing as he waited for Booth's reaction.

"It wasn't the first time she was attacked by a dirty cop, and it probably won't be the last. But for me, and probably her, it was the scariest. We were chasing a suspect, me and Bones, during a case a few months after I came back from Iraq. We'd never suspected a dirty cop to be involved in this one, it just seemed like a simple open-and-shut murder for us to solve. So, obviously, when the perp led us down an alley, the last thing we expected to see was the cop waiting for him, gun at arm's length, pointed at me and Bones."

"I told her to get back. I had the gun, I was the one who was meant to go first, ya know. She didn't listen. I kept calling her to stay down and come back to where I was, I even tried grabbing a hold of her jacket, but She's so... she's so goddamn stubborn. I didn't realise he had guys surrounding the area, backing him up, so we I was caught off guard when I heard the Glock being cocked behind me."

"She picked that moment to charge the guy, trying to knock him off his feet. His thugs knocked my gun from my hands and held me back, and I watched on as... as... She...uh... she got shot. That bullet was meant for me, Don, for me."

"What happened after that?"

"Bones, she bled out... a lot. I finally broke free from the other guys, and shot the cop. His thugs ran off, and I got to Bones just in time. She was in the hospital for two weeks, and spent three days in a coma."

Booth sighed. He'd never told anyone this story before. "I was still with Hannah at that time. I... I didn't go and visit Bones very often while she was in the hospital. Mostly because I felt guilty for what happened. If Bones and I hadn't been fighting before we started chasing the perp, maybe we would've been fine. I don't know. There's no point speculating about it now, it was over three years ago."

Don sat back in his chair, blown away by what he'd just heard. "Shot? She got shot? Wow, that's just... Wow."

"I'd worked with her for six years, and I always kept her safe, you know. But it just takes one time, one time to slip through the cracks. She always told me it wasn't my fault, but I still feel guilty about it. Her father, Max, however blamed me for all of it. And he's a guy who doesn't beat around the bush. He blamed me, which made me feel even guiltier for it all, because I promised _him_ that I'd always keep her safe."

"Was that why you...?'

"Left? No, not exactly. It's kinda why Hannah left, kinda, but no... I left because of Bones, not because of guilt. I had loved her for so long, and had changed her mind on half of the things she believed in, but I could never change her mind about love, about us. She was certain we were destined to be platonic. And after everything we went through, she _still_ wasn't willing to give us a shot, so I left. I couldn't deal anymore. I spent years denying how I felt, and then I spent years hiding how I felt... When you're rejected twice, what _do_ you do?"

There was an awkward silence that hung between them for a few minutes as the words Booth had spoken sunk in. "Uh, shouldn't we, uh, get back to the case Don?"

Don shook his head, a vain attempt to make the fuzz clouding his mind disappear from the intense conversation he and Booth had just shared. "Yeah, sure." Don stuttered a bit, reaching for the file Booth was handing him as he scanned it. "Laurence's lackeys have been processed and are waiting for a transfer to other correctional facilities around the area. Autopsy on Roberts is almost done, gunshot wound up through the head from the underside of the jaw, Laurence's M.O. Nothing else out of the ordinary so far, but we'll just have to wait for the autopsy to be complete by Steph."

Booth sighed, the action expressing his depression over the case. Sure, these small facts were leads, but they were simply _basic_ facts that wouldn't help them locate Laurence or anticipate his next mood. Basically, they were useless.

He'd been sure since the beginning of this case that it would be a career killer for him – it certainly had been for the last poor schmuck who'd been handed it, quite literally. He'd been murdered by either Laurence or one of his thugs before backup or the EMTs could get to him. And though Booth was the Director, and it was not _his_ duty to act as the lead on a case, or be directly involved in them at all, he missed being a field agent and thoroughly enjoyed the physical and mental aspects of being out in the field.

He'd been handed the Laurence case six months prior after it had sat cold for almost a year after the Lead Agent was slain. And, even though Don was technically 'Lead' on the case, Booth took it as an opportunity to relive some of his glory days, which Don gratefully indulged him in.

"We'll get him, Booth." The statement shocked both men as the words slipped from Don's mouth. "we'll get Laurence, and McLeod for that matter, before any harm can come to the Doc, alright!"

* * *

After a vegan lunch at a small cafe on Broad Street, Booth and Brennan proceeded, hand in hand, to some of the finer points of interest in Philadelphia. First on Booth's list were some of the museums. He was taking her to the Franklin Institute to see one of the exhibits they were currently showing – Cleopatra: The Search for the Last Queen of Egypt. Booth knew that 'The Mummy' was Brennan's favourite movie, and though her field of study was Forensic Anthropology and not Cultural Anthropology, she did enjoy learning about the lives of those in other cultures in Ancient times.

His next stop was the National Constitution Centre, where he and Brennan revelled in the intensity of what created their nation. They bickered over various historical events, assassinations (in particular that of President Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth), and everything felt natural, as though no time had kept them separated or events pulled them apart. What surprised Booth, though, was one of the exhibits on display.

"Booth!" Called Brennan, and she dragged Booth over to the entrance of the exhibit that had piqued her interest. "Art of the American Soldier. We have to see this Booth!"

They wandered through, examining each piece as they passed it. "Some friends of mine, old army buddies from the first Gulf War submitted some pieces back in the early 2000s. Usually these are only kept on military grounds, but I guess someone figured it was time for the world to finally see what life was like for the soldiers, how they viewed the fucked-up mess they were in."

Booth sighed. He actually recognised some of the paintings and some of the artists, which he pointed out to Brennan as they walked by. There was one in particular which caught Brennan's attention as they passed by. "Booth," she called, worry edging her tone as she scrutinized the painting before her. Booth was quickly by her side, but took a step back upon seeing the painting.

"This painting has excellent brushwork, and the detail in the image is excellent. Didn't you say this was one of your army buddies?" she asked, pointing to the plaque beside the painting. The painting depicted four men, sitting around a fire, and drinking beer with photos of their girls back home being passed around between them. Their uniforms were clearly visible, and so were the names across the chest, though to protect privacy, nicknames were used, presumed Brennan.

Booth nervously palmed the back of his neck. "uh... yeah, so it is. Ha, who knew?" He tried to move Brennan to the next painting, but her focus was fixed. "There are several men with their names visible on their uniforms. The signature in the corner says that this was painted by a 'Tex', yet the man with 'Tex' on his uniform strikes a remarkable resemblance to you, Booth."

Booth took a step backwards, unsure of how to approach the subject. "Yeah... uh... about that..."

Realisation struck Brennan and she stood up straight, pointing an accusatory finger towards Booth as she stepped towards him. "You... You... you painted this?" Her voice hitched at the end of her question, making her uncertainty and doubt clear to those surrounding them. A silent, most discreet nod was given by Booth as he kept his gaze down, as though her were ashamed to admit that he was the artist. "You painted this, and your buddy gets the credit?"

Booth jumped to attention. "You'll note, _Temperance_, that it says 'Submitted by Rai Parkins', not 'Painted by Rai Parkins'" Brennan's stare gave no room for argument, and Booth quickly hung his shoulders in defeat. "Alright, Bones. Yes, I painted that, back in the First Gulf War. That's one of my favourite memories from back then. That night and painting that piece." Brennan gave him a sceptical look and folded her arms over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor as a crowd watched from a few metres away. "I gave it to the guys, I didn't need another reminder of what had happened during those times; I had enough of them. Obviously, Rai submitted it. We all got a letter from the Army a few years ago asking for any art pieces from my army days to be submitted. It wasn't compulsory or anything like that, but Rai must've seen some talent in it. I think he's an art critic or curator or something now..."

Brennan's foot stopped tapping. "Seeley Joseph Booth, you mean to tell me that we have known each other for a _decade_ and I'm only _now_ finding out that you have artistic talent? You know, Angela would've hated you much less for leaving if she'd known how artistic you were..."

"And she probably would've dragged me along to _every_ art show she could find. That or make me pose for her own art..." Booth shuddered at the thought of posing naked for Angela in her office at the Jeffersonian. He'd been there and done that once before, he didn't need to be stripped down to his socks for Angela's own enjoyment too. "Look, you're making a scene, Bones, so let's just move on from _this_ painting, and get through the day, _please_."

Brennan unfolded her arms, stopped tapping her foot and gently took hold of Booth's arm as they moved on to look at the other artworks. When they were a couple of metres away, Brennan noticed the huge swarm of people now surrounding Booth's painting. Brennan snickered and pulled Booth's attention to the scene. She absolutely lost herself in hearty laughter as Booth covered his eyes in a vain attempt to hide himself from the embarrassment.

* * *

After a light afternoon snack at one of the cafes in the park area, Booth and Brennan meandered over to the Liberty Bell, and spent a good while wandering around the park grounds, before Booth took them on a guided tour of Independence Hall. Brennan was finding all the history in Philadelphia very interesting.

"I had only done some light Googling before I came here, so I find your knowledge of the area quite... intriguing. It's refreshing to see you with all of the knowledge on a topic in a setting where I would usually dominate."

Booth took the compliment in his stride and tried his best not to let his ego take over at that moment, or his libido for the possible double-entendres encased in Brennan's final comments.

Nervously, Booth pulled at his non-existent collar as he cleared his throat. "So, Bones. Where to for dinner? It's getting kinda late and the sun's almost gone. I figured you might be a bit hungry."

Booth smirked as he and Brennan caught a cab to Old City and pulled up in front of a beautiful looking restaurant. Brennan gasped as she climbed from the cab and Booth paid the driver.

* * *

They were directed to a little private booth towards the back, lit by exquisite candles as they perused the menu for dinner, and Brennan chose a glass of wine, while Booth opted for a nice beer. As Brennan read through the menu, she stopped and slammed it gently on the table, also lowering Booth's.

"This is a vegan restaurant, Booth" she commented in a whisper. Booth simply nodded.

"You might also note that it's eco friendly, all the food is organic and sustainably grown. I know how much you care for the environment, Bones." He gave her his patented charm smile, and for once, Brennan was helpless to resist it.

They wined and dined until the later hours of the night, leaving Farmicia sometime after 10:30 and making their way down to Penn's Landing to glimpse out at the waters by moonlight.

"I've been having a really great night, Booth" admitted Brennan as they watched the ferry leave the dock. "I thoroughly enjoyed visiting those museums, and spending time doing something that I enjoy." She'd really enjoyed her last two dates with Booth, but in her opinion, this one was the icing on the cake. In simple gestures, Booth had shown just _how_ well he knew Brennan, from the vegan restaurant to the museums and historic sites they'd visited in the afternoon. A part of her didn't want the night to end, she hoped that tonight was _the_ night for her and Booth, and she could tell that Booth hoped so too.

"Yeah, well you could've had all of this a long time ago..." It was mumbled under his breath without a second thought of _whose_ presence he was in. He didn't exactly mean for it to come out or for it to sound so rude, but it was the truth. A part of him, buried deep inside, wanted to punish her for making him wait so long to have this chance.

"Excuse me?" asked Brennan, her gaze shifting directly to Booth as she searched for some reasoning as to what he had just said.

"I... uh... I didn't mean..." stuttered Booth, but he was cut off by Brennan before he could explain himself, not that he actually had an explanation at that moment.

"I tell you how much I'm enjoying spending time with you, how much I like that you put thought into such an antiquated practice, and you just throw it back at me by reminding me of my past mistakes. I'm sure your ridiculous dating protocol dictates that flaws and mistakes are taboo subjects for discussion!" With that, Brennan turned on her heel and stormed off towards the car park, away from Booth.

He was quick to follow her, racing after her, dodging cars until he finally caught her. "Look, that's not what I meant, Bones, and you know it."

"Well, what _do_ you mean?" challenged Brennan, turning to face him and staring straight at him, standing as close as she could without physical contact, and without Booth being able to overpower her fighting nature with his warmth and heart.

"I never said any of it was a mistake, Bones, just that things could be a lot different. You, of all people, believe we are the sum of our parts, so we probably weren't meant to be together then."

"And maybe not now" she mumbled in retort, a mistake as she flared Booth's anger, stoking it like a raging fire having alcohol thrown into it.

"Now, wait a minute. I gave myself to you, one hundred percent. I offered you everything I am, everything I was, and it wasn't good enough for you. **_I_** wasn't good enough for you! You always, always, always take the time to think serious, life altering decisions through, but it took you all of three seconds to turn me down." He couldn't stop himself, the words, however painful they were to speak or hear, were spouting from him uncontrollably.

"How do you think that made me feel? I've spent my life searching for absolution, to rectify my cosmic balance sheet for everything I've done, and I thought finally, _finally_, I'd paid my dues, that I could move on from this life, that I could be rewarded. I thought that you would be my reward, for all of my self restraint over the years..."

"I'm not an object to be owned, Booth!" shouted Brennan in retaliation. "Nor am I something that can be given."

"And I never said you were, Bones. I just thought I'd finally caught a break, you know? You... you were _so_ happy, even for one second, and then you threw it all out the window."

"A personal relationship would never have worked between us, Booth."

"Where's your proof, huh? Our partnership wasn't supposed to work, but we were solid for _five_ years!"

"And it ended, just like everything else does, Booth"

"Because of you!" His words were spiteful, and they stung Brennan like poison, but she bit them back.

They were silent for almost a minute, absorbing the words exchanged between them. This was not the way either of them imagined their evening going.

Finally Brennan broke the silence. "It hurt, Booth."

Booth was genuinely confused by her words, her confession. "Huh?"

"That night, it hurt to turn you down Booth, but I know now that it was for the best." It was a quiet confession; Brennan kept her eyes down the entire time so as not to reveal her betraying eyes to Booth. Tears were threatening to spill over, but Brennan held firm.

"How so?"

And so Brennan recalled to Booth a conversation she'd had with Angela a while after coming back from Maluku.

* * *

_It was a crisp Friday night, and Brennan was cooped up in her office, working on yet **another** set of remains from Limbo. This had been her routine since she'd returned. She would spend most of her time at work, catching up on everything she'd missed while she was off chasing a fantasy._

_"I know your fear, Bren" stated Angela, her tone expressing just how serious she was, as she sashayed into Brennan's office._

_"Pardon?" came the reply, but Brennan never lifted her head, she remained focussed on the task at hand._

_Angela sighed. Why couldn't anything ever be simple with Brennan? As she took a seat on Brennan's couch, her hand gently resting across her stomach, she thought of how she would share with Brennan something that she'd kept in for so long._

_"'Friends!' That's what I told Hodgins all those years ago. I know your fear, Bren, because I've been there. It's the fear that it won't work out, that we'll lose everything that we value, everything that means something to us. I told him that it might not work out, and where would we be if it didn't. And his response, Bren, was 'What if it does?'" And he was right. It was great, it was perfect even, and though we broke up, we found our way back together again, as in love as ever, despite all of the obstacles we had to overcome to get there."_

_"Don't you get it, Bren? It's worth it. It's worth the risk of losing something so dear to you, because what you gain, Bren, it's more magical and precious than anything you could ever imagine. It was worth the risk for me. I have no regrets. And for a love, true love, like what you and Booth could have, I'd risk it all again, so why shouldn't you?"_

_Brennan took no more than three seconds to give her answer, as coolly and calmly as she could muster, despite the inherent need to bawl over Angela's words and her hurt._

_"Because Booth has Hannah."_

* * *

Booth was truly touched by what Brennan had just shared with him, but despite that, her words had not helped her case.

"That doesn't justify it, Bones. In fact it proves you wrong!"

"_You_ get the gun and the badge. You have your bucket list, your 'cosmic balance sheet'. When I turned you down, everyone felt sorry for you, because apparently, you were the only one hurting. But _you_ were the one who actually had a reason to keep going, Booth. You had a reason to live, and I had nothing."

"You could've had everything, Bones" said Booth, almost defeated.

"And when I left, I needed a perspective on my life. You didn't have to leave. In fact, you admitted it was a mistake leaving DC, leaving Parker. I got my perspective, I finally realised that I couldn't live in a world without you. But when we came back, you had Hannah. That initial pain was necessary, Booth, because it made me realise _just_ what I was missing. But you caused unnecessary pain, Booth, when you brought back Hannah. I spent _months_ trying to be happy for the two of you, to accept that you had actually moved on. And every day of it was painful" a tear escaped Brennan and trailed down her cheek. "And you... you didn't even realise how much I was hurting. You weren't the same man when you came back, and we could all see it-"

"-I wasn't the same man when I left, Bones. I was dying inside; I had to get out of there after you turned me down, Bones. Don't you see? Trying to be partners with you, knowing that you knew how I felt about you, was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Before that night, I could pretend, I could pretend I didn't feel how I felt, and after two years of it, it was fairly easy. But that night turned _everything_ upside down, for me and for you, and I couldn't hide it, Bones. Because you _knew_, and you felt _nothing_!"

"So you loved Hannah because it was easy to _pretend_ around her?"

"Maybe I'll tell you that story another night, Bones, but right now, it has no place in our argument!"

"You weren't the same man!" stated Brennan, infuriated that she had to reiterate her point to continue _her_ side of the argument. "You spent hardly any time with me in those months."

"I had a girlfriend Bones, you passed up that opportunity, and we both knew things had to change. I had a girlfriend to take care of."

"I TOOK A BULLET FOR YOU!" Brennan practically screamed the words at Booth. "I almost died, Booth, and had you not been so _taken_ with Hannah, maybe you would've realised just how _little_ you were there for me during that time."

"I visited, Bones. I came to see you." His words were almost a whisper as he tried to bring the volume of the argument down, but Brennan was unrelenting.

"Twice! I was in hospital for two weeks, in a coma for three days, and you visited me twice!"

"I came in with you, Bones. But if you hadn't been so quick to be a hero, to prove a point to me, then maybe you would've been conscious for that part, for the part where I completely blew off Hannah for the three days when you were in that goddamn coma and maybe you would've known that I never left your side for more than five minutes during that time!"

She was taken aback by his statement. No one had ever told her _that_ side of the story, the part where Booth actually acted like his old self. Perhaps Angela had kept it from her to keep her sane – she was the only person who knew how much Brennan was hurting over the Hannah/Booth situation. But still, despite her lack of knowledge of Booth's presence, it still didn't explain his whereabouts for the remainder of her time in hospital.

"Explain to me this, then Agent Booth. If you cared so much about me, like you claim, then why did you only visit me two more times in two weeks?"

Booth sighed; he should've seen this question coming. "Because, Bones, Angela kicked me out. She blamed _me_ for all that happened. She told me I might as well have pulled the trigger, because I was just as guilty as the guy that _actually_ shot you. I didn't visit because you didn't deserve to see me and Angela having it out in front of you!"

It was partly true, both he and Brennan knew it. That was part of the reason he didn't visit, the other part being he was too busy with Hannah.

"Don't lie to me, Booth. You spent _all_ of that other time with Hannah, probably romping around your apartment. You were so blinded by her that you couldn't see how much we all needed the old Booth back!"

And with that, Brennan stormed away from Booth again. He was completely infuriating, and every minute she was with him at the moment stirred something deep within her that had laid dormant for over three years. She needed this release. Booth needed to know how much he'd hurt her.

When he caught up to her again and spun her around, Brennan stared him down in silence. "Why did you leave?"

"Because of you!"

"And what did I do?"

"It's not what you _did_, Bones, it's what you _didn't_. It was over between me and Hannah; it had been for months-"

"_A_ month!" corrected Brennan.

"We were finished. I tried. I tried my hardest to make you see that things could work out between us. I took you out on dates that _any_ normal woman would swoon over. I showed you just how much I still cared about you, I tried to make up for everything I'd put you through. But I wasn't enough. I tried to make it work between us, but you... you wouldn't budge. You always have to be right, but you were so wrong this time. You wouldn't give me the time of day, Bones. You wouldn't meet me halfway, and you just ignored me like you did when we first worked together. I had to leave, Bones, because I couldn't take it anymore. I was going crazy. I could've had you; we could've had each other if you hadn't been so... so... cold!"

She'd been called cold before, but those words coming from Booth were the final straw. She looked him square in the eyes, grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a demanding, passionate kiss, and just as quickly, released him and stormed off up the darkened street in North Philadelphia. Booth was still stunned by the sudden kiss, and by the time he'd wrapped his head around what was going off, Brennan was nowhere in sight.

She was mad. No, she was beyond mad. She was pissed! Brennan stormed. She could've taken _anything_ from Booth in the way of name calling, but not that. He would never call her cold. _Does he really think that of me?_ Brennan rounded a corner, hoping she could find solace from the Booth that would surely be on the hunt for her now, but found herself falling down to the ground after bumping into someone.

"'Allo Love!"

* * *

_Okay, so this story is actually set in about 2014, but when I was doing research for this chapter, I couldn't resist the War Paintings exhibit on at the Constitution Centre (You Americans get so many cool exhibits), and I had to throw it in. And since they are paintings by soldiers, and Booth was a soldier, I just had to put a painting in by him, just to add to his history, although it was submitted without his knowledge by his buddy. I apologise for the inaccuracy this will bring to this piece, but indulge me :D_

_Reviews will be much appreciated, and rewarded with thankyous and imaginary choc-chip cookies :D I am also happy to answer any queries you have about this story._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

He'd searched high and low, all through the surrounding neighbourhoods of North Philadelphia for Brennan, but she was nowhere to be seen. Booth found it unnerving that she could disappear so easily in the midst of an investigation where she was a known target, without any regard for Booth or his sanity. But rather than think of all the bad things that could perhaps have happened to Brennan, Booth decided to call it a night, catch a cab to his car and head home for a decent night's rest, or so he hoped.

He'd called her cell and her hotel a number of times by the time Booth made it home, and none of those times was there an answer, just voicemail and a recorded message stating that the call to her hotel suite could not be connected. He was growing frustrated from the lack of contact, but knew there was nothing he could do for the time being. Instead, he stripped down to his boxers, and climbed into bed for an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The darkness faded from around her as she regained consciousness, and mustered all of her energy into sitting up. Dr Temperance Brennan had been kidnapped. Again. She sighed, knowing that when someone was ready to deal with her, they would appear, as opposed to her crying out. From previous situations like this, Brennan had learnt it was best to keep quiet, to hide her consciousness, her presence, from her captors for as long as possible, shortening the time between consciousness and beating to the time of her rescue. At least, Brennan _hoped_ she'd be rescued. After that fight with Booth, she wouldn't be surprised if he never spoke to her again. In fact, she would be even less surprised if it'd been one of Booth's FBI friends who'd taken her, and she was locked in his basement.

Light crept in through the boarded up window as Brennan searched the room for anything and everything. In the far corner there was a chair, right beside the door, where she presumed a guard would come and watch her. In another corner sat a bowl or water and some stale pieces of bread. _Like a dog_ she pondered, _they expect me to eat and drink like a dog?_

It took her all of five minutes to figure out the events that had taken place the night before. She argued with Booth, stupidly stormed off in what was deemed the worst neighbourhood in Philadelphia, and stumbled into a man, who (surprise, surprise) had a taser in his hand. She'd been tasered plenty of times before, but Brennan was once again irked about it. It was brutal and animalistic. Wild animals should be tasered, not people, and not for the purposes of apprehending suspects and taking people captive. Then, somehow, by persons unknown, Brennan had been taken to this place, and placed under lock and key all on her own, in silence and darkness.

_Booth_. That was her only thought. Where was he? Did they take him too, or just her? Would he realise she's missing? Would he search for her? It was these thoughts that Brennan knew would unnerve her, make her wish that they'd just killed her. But it was also the thought of Booth, of what he would be going through if she succumbed to whatever torture they wanted to inflict, that kept her going. She knew it had only been a number of hours since she'd been taken, no more than 12 she guessed, but still, it was the waiting, the not knowing that was her undoing.

* * *

Tuesday morning came and went, and Booth knew that there was something wrong, he could feel it, sense it, and his frustration was being vented on anyone and everyone around the office, from Don to the new intern in the mail room.

"Tell me we know something, Don, because I swear to God..." Booth's fists curled and he raised his hands ready to strike at the nearest object, animate or inanimate.

Don took a step back; he was definitely scared of this side of Booth. He'd never seen him so passionate and so enraged by something at the same time, and he made sure to check his attitude at the door and think through whatever he needed to say.

"Not yet, Booth, but it's been less than 24 hours. You know how Laurence works. He wants to make you sweat, so he's not going to contact you for at least another 6 ho-"

"She might not have six hours, Don! Get me every case file on this thing. She's out there, and I need to help her whether she wants me to or not!" Booth slammed his fists on the desk in front of him, and every single face in the bullpen turned to look at him. He simply scowled and stalked towards the record room.

**Tuesday Night, 9pm**

Booth rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at the Laurence files for almost six hours, trying his best to find minute details that could help him find Brennan. He felt completely responsible for her disappearance, and his worst fears were only confirmed when, at around 4:30 that afternoon, he received a note, hand delivered to the front desk reception of the FBI, with a photo of Brennan lying unconscious on the ground.

**_We have your beloved Doc, Agent Booth, or should I say Director Booth? This is not your investigation and it all goes way above your head. Drop it, drop it and leave it alone like a good Government lap dog before someone gets hurt._**

**_She's pretty when she sleeps, but I know you know that. I just hope you're smart enough to do the right thing so maybe, just maybe you can experience the same joy again. No promises though._**

"It's hopeless!" He was defeated. To Booth, life felt like a series of obstacles, of interruptions and games where he wasn't meant to win, but somehow had made it through them all. At least, that was until Laurence took Brennan from him. It was bad enough he didn't have any leads on his whereabouts to begin with, but trying to find Brennan, the love of his life, without any idea where to start- to Booth it seemed like an excellent time to give up everything and go jump off a pier.

Don leaned back in his chair. He had been going over more of the forensics of all of the cases they'd been checking out. "It's gonna be alright, Booth. We'll find her; it'll just be a matter of time." Before Booth could interject and fly into an unstoppable rage, Don continued, throwing his hands up to silence Booth. "Forensics called twenty minutes ago regarding the letter. There's not much to be said, written in plain ink available from wherever, no handwriting matches to the samples we have on file, and the only fingerprints are those of McLeod. Security footage is being checked as we speak, but it's not promising. It's so easy to hide yourself from the cameras, particularly if you know where they are. And a guy like Laurence, or even McLeod, is bound to have that kind of intel."

Booth sat there, staring at the documents in front of him. "But Why?" he wondered. Booth was obsessed with motivation, the why. Why did people do what they did? Why choose that particular victim? Why not find another way out or around, find another resolution to the problem they face? Why think murder is their only way out?

It always troubled him that people could find the stupidest reasons to commit such a heinous crime. Office supplies, an affair, rent payments, a chewed on pencil. Booth had seen it all, from the absolutely ridiculous to the conspired, carefully planned, intricately detailed murder. What disturbed him the most, though, were serial killers, or mass murderers. Booth himself had taken over sixty lives in his lifetime thus far, and he spent every day trying to make up for those shots he'd taken. How could people take a life without feeling remorse? And for that matter, how could they handle taking so many for such petty reasons?

"Why what, Booth?" He'd already asked four times before he finally saw Booth's eyes focus in attention. "Why what?"

"Why take her, Don? She did nothing. If anything, she was a distraction for me. I took a half day yesterday, another half day last Thursday. These guys should be thanking her, not kidnapping her. She's keeping me from working the case, which keeps them safe for just that much longer. Hell, maybe she could convince me to pack up and head back to DC if she really wanted to."

"What?" Don's jaw dropped open in shock. He never, not once in a million years, thought that Booth would drop _everything_, his life here, his friends, and just head back to DC for a woman. Granted, this was no _ordinary_ woman, it was the love of Booth's life, but the idea of Booth leaving Philadelphia, after everything he'd done to fix up the Field Office, to get the solve rates higher, was absolutely preposterous in Don's eyes. "You can't leave, Booth. We need you here, here with us to keep everything going smoothly. I'm an honest guy and I don't like to embellish, but you are the best Director we've had here in God-only-knows how long. There's no way the head-honchos would just let you pack up and walk out like you did in DC, there's too much at stake this time."

Booth nodded in agreement. He'd worked so hard over the past three years to get everything in order. That and the fact that he actually _loved_ the job he was doing now; were what would keep him firmly in the state of Pennsylvania, and not in the District of Columbia where his true love lived. "Yeah, you're right Don. I let my heart choose Philly over Washington, but now my mind's gonna go with staying right here. I've got a life here, a house, a nice car, a great job, and there's no way I'm trading it all for something that might not even come to bear."

* * *

**Wednesday Morning, 11am**

After the deep and meaningful with Don the night before, Booth had got himself back into a mood where finding Brennan was the only thing he cared about. Food, sleep and everything essential all flew out the window and Booth remained focussed on figuring out where Laurence would've taken Brennan to.

From the psychological profile he'd gotten from the Philadelphia Field Office psychologist (who was nowhere near as talented as Sweets was when it came to profiling, or anything psychological really), Booth figured that Laurence would keep Brennan somewhere dark and dingy. _That's original..._ he mused to himself, thinking of all the places bad guys liked to hide their hostages. It wasn't exactly a narrow list, mostly warehouses and abandoned buildings, but, considering Laurence's operations, Booth figured he'd probably have a place fairly large, so that cancelled out any of the smaller shops on the list.

He spent the better part of the morning poring over more files, documents, credit card charges, crime reports, fugitive profiles, pretty much anything that could connect Laurence to McLeod, and then connect them both to Brennan's disappearance and hopefully where they were keeping her. It was killing Booth on the inside knowing that the last words he ever spoke to Brennan could possibly be words born in rage, in hurt, the words that drove her from him in the first place.

Booth dropped the file he was holding onto the floor in front of him. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with boxes of files, pens, paper, photos all sprawled around him, hoping to form some sense of the massive amounts of information his brain was taking in in such a short time. He was ready to give up, holding his head in his hands and shaking it. Seeley Booth was never a man to cry, never a man to let his emotions overwhelm him, but he had never, _never_ been in a position such as this one, where the life of a loved one relied solely on him and him alone. Usually in situations where Brennan had been in danger in the past he had the squint squad, Cam, Angela, Hodgins, Zack or another intern helping him, as well as the power of the FBI behind him. But this day, on a lowly Wednesday morning he felt more alone than ever. His argument with Brennan all those years ago, he'd just proved himself wrong.

_Squints don't solve murders, cops do._

The words were haunting him now, laughing in his face. There wasn't a murder, sure, but Booth and the crack scientist team, with only half of its power, had managed to find Brennan and Hodgins when they were buried alive, so why couldn't he find _one_ missing person, why was it so hard when there weren't scientists to help him?

Booth hung his head in shame, before raising it again to scan the piles of papers surrounding him. One in particular caught his attention, and snatching up the papers, Booth raced out of his office and headed straight for the elevator.

* * *

"Stephanie!" he called, racing through the dimly lit hallways in the morgue. A feminine 'yoo-hoo' bounced off the walls, guiding Booth to Stephanie's whereabouts. He quickly slammed the file down in front of her on her desk. "The... the body that was dumped here last week, did you find any particulates?"

Booth was out of breath. The elevator took too long to arrive on the eighth floor, so he took the fire access stairs and raced down to the basement to get the news to Stephanie as quickly as possible.

Stephanie looked at Booth strangely. "A please would be nice, Director Booth." She turned and flicked through the folders in her filing cabinet, extracting one and analysing the pages inside. "Some dirt sample were taken from the body and treads of her heels. There was also other plant matter mixed in with some of the mud on the shoes, but I haven't been able to analyse anything. You know me; I'm a coroner, a pathologist, not a mineralogist. You'll have to call up the research labs at the University for some answers into that stuff."

Booth let out a frustrated breath, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he leaned back against the desk. "And there's nothing you can do?" He flashed her his charm smile, hoping that it would have some effect on Stephanie like it usually did, but she just shook her head.

"Like I said, it's not my area of expertise. And even if we did have the right equipment to do soil analysis here in the morgue, I wouldn't even know what I'd be looking for. The University's your best bet, Booth. But even then, it could take a matter of days."

His shoulders fell in defeat. Booth picked up the file from the desk that he'd brought in, along with the file and samples of the murder victim. "I also want you to check for particulates on our snitch there" he said, pointing over to the slab with a body under a white sheet. "And any of the other Laurence victims we might still have here. Samples, reports, the whole kit and caboodle. Send them up to me as fast as you can."

* * *

The pen bounced constantly off the paper in front of him, his gaze focussed on the telephone in front of him. He was left with few options to get to the bottom of the Laurence case, few options to figure out where the bodies were before they were dumped. Booth wasn't a coward, far from it, but his 'few options' were leading to roads he hoped he'd never have to face, at least not so soon.

"You paged, Booth?" Don's head popped into the office while the rest of him remained hidden behind the doorframe. After their conversation the night before, Don was almost scared to come face to face with Booth.

Booth waved Don in. "Take a seat," and so he did. "You're good at playing the bad cop, right, Don? Good. I might, kinda... maybe need you to do something for me. I figured out a way to narrow Laurence's location, but _I_ can't do it."

Booth's vagueness was clear to Don as to what _really_ was going on. "Just tell me in plain English what you want me to do, comprende?"

Booth chuckled before his expression turned serious. He leaned forward in his chair, pushing the files and samples he'd collected earlier that afternoon towards Don. "I need you to head to Washington. Go to the Jeffersonian. They have an excellent bug and slime guy who can analyse these samples quickly, and narrow down their origin. This is top priority, and we need it done fast. I'll run you through what to do in a minute, but I need to know if you're in."

Don took a moment to consider the proposal. It wasn't like it was a career altering task, but it was important to Booth, whose friendship he valued. "Sure, Booth. Whatever it takes."

Booth nodded in agreement. "Now, you'll just have to show up there and flash your badge. That'll get you inside. Don't bother trying to go onto the platform in the middle, because you need an access card for that. Your target is a Dr Jack Hodgins. He's a conspiracy nut, so he'll be a bit sceptical of you. Just keep it professional and ignore his political cracks. Do not, under any circumstance, alert them to Bones being kidnapped. It'll drive them, sure, but it'll also drive them straight here, into the hornet's nest. We've got enough trouble with Laurence; I don't need him going after three more scientists."

Don nodded, avidly scribbling down his instructions.

_1. __Deliver samples to Jeffersonian in Washington._

_2. __Identify self as from FBI_

_3. __Stand by while Dr Jack Hodgins analyses samples and narrows location._

_4. __..._

"Uh, What do I do once he's done? Do I just high-tail it outta there or do I make some governmental "Your country thanks you" speech?"

Booth laughed at Don's speech. "God no, that will just fuel him. Uh, just... uh... Make it up, Don. You're good at thinking on the fly. Just don't tell them you're from Philadelphia, and if... oh shit, Angela. If Angela recognises you... take her aside and explain that it's a matter of- Just tell her to not make a scene of it. And don't answer any questions. But play it cool. You don't wanna be too uptight."

Don's head was swimming with Booth's instructions. "Basically, you want me to keep it professional. Don't tell them about the case; don't tell them I'm from Philadelphia. Keep Angela in check if it comes to it, and when it's time to leave just play it cool and figure out something."

"Oh, and one more thing, Don. I suggest you approach one Dr Camille Saroyan before you approach Hodgins. She's the boss, so she'll _make_ Hodgins do it. Be on her good side and just explain that the labs that you usually use are incapable of analysing these samples quickly. Spiel some story about kidnap and ransom, with a limited time and it's of high importance. She'll sympathise with that."

Don nodded, gathered the items off the desk and made his way out the door. It was going to be one long afternoon and night, but he hoped that it would all be worth it in the end.

* * *

Booth had described the Jeffersonian to him before, but Don had never taken him seriously as to the level of technology the place housed. Don had already checked in with security and had been given his own visitors badge. He held in his left hand the silver briefcase housing all of the samples to be analysed, while his right hand fidgeted in his pocket. This was a new experience for him. Sure, Don had been on undercover cases before, but this was like being both undercover and being surveillance at the same time. He had to pass the scientists' tests, while keeping a cool demeanour so as not to give away just _how_ important this information would be.

Don had been given directions to Dr Saroyan's office from the security staff in the lobby. He stopped outside her office door, knocking swiftly three times on the outside before taking a step in. Producing his badge, Don approached Dr Saroyan after she waved him in.

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Don Palmer with the FBI."

"Dr Camille Saroyan of the Jeffersonian, obviously." She was as witty and fun-loving as Booth had described her on his long drive from Philadelphia to Washington. "How may I help you, Agent Palmer?"

Don tucked his badge away and set the briefcase onto the desk. "I was informed that your lab facilities are the best in the world. We need some soil and particulate samples analysed immediately, it is pertinent to a current investigation."

Cam crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrow in scepticism. "Really? Well, in case you FBI guys didn't get the memo, our last Agent walked out on us three years ago and since then the Jeffersonian has severed almost all ties with the FBI. We don't owe you guys any favours-"

"Dr Saroyan. I understand your..." he searched for the right word to use at that ,moment, "opinion of the FBI. I have travelled several hours to get help from the best lab around, and I am not leaving without that help. There is an ongoing investigation which has escalated to a kidnap and ransom, and a time limit has been set. The funds cannot be raised, and we need your assistance if we are to turn out a positive result."

Cam threw her hands into the air. "All for image, is that right Agent Palmer? You just wanna close another case successfully, is that it? That's all you FBI types come here for, isn't it? To solve a case? Make a name for yourself?"

Don was getting ready to throw the towel in. Booth had never once mentioned how stubborn this woman was. "I just need the assistance of a Dr Jack Hodgins. This is _not_ about solving a case; this is about a young woman's life, a woman who is running out of time to live unless we can find her location. I have been... informed of your previous government ties, but I assure you, this is a one-off visit. The labs in our area aren't up to standard to be able to analyse our samples fast enough or with enough detail, and you and Dr Hodgins came highly recommended through my bosses."

Cam thought carefully for a moment. _Could it be that Seeley sent this guy to do the dirty work?_ "Alright, but these are _my_ people. You do as I say and do not interfere with their work or any of the lab equipment. Follow me."

Cam's heels clicked with a definitive pace, like a woman on a mission, as she led Don to Hodgins' workstation. "Dr Hodgins. This is Agent Don Palmer of the FBI and he is here requesting your expertise-"

"In case you haven't heard, Agent Palmer, we don't do the FBI any favours anymore..."

Cam sighed. She should've seen this coming. "_Dr Hodgins_. It is his request, but it is _my_ order that you analyse the particulates he has brought with him." Hodgins opened his mouth to protest but was quickly cut off by Cam. "_Dr Hodgins_" she warned, turning about face and leaving a gobsmacked Hodgins giving Don the evil eye.

Don, suddenly feeling extremely nervous and out of place smiled shyly, raised his hand and gave a small wave and a murmured 'hi' before placing the briefcase on Hodgins' workstation. "I get that you obviously don't trust me or want to work with me, but this is pretty important. We need to narrow down our search location to find this woman, but our FBI labs can't do as good a job as you can and the local university labs aren't fast enough for us."

Hodgins sighed, his hands rubbing over his face to wake him up. It was well past knock-off time on this Tuesday night for Hodgins and he _really_ didn't want to stick around to analyse some samples for a stuck up FBI guy. "Alright, but you do as I say, when I say it. Keep out of the way and I'll _try_ to have this done as quickly as possible." Hodgins quickly brushed off Don, dismissing him to sit quietly in the lounge upstairs while he focussed on what these particulates could possibly hold the key to.

As Don wandered past the platform, his mind was thinking of all Booth had explained about the Jeffersonian, his third home once upon a time. Booth had regaled him with a few stories of good times spent in Dr Brennan's office, how some of his best and worst memories had taken place in that building. But it had been a long time since Booth had shared such memories with himself, and Don was doubtful that he could ever pull another story from Booth about the Jeffersonian if the Doc wasn't saved.

Don found himself in front of Brennan's office, staring blankly inside from the door. The room was dark; obviously it had been abandoned some months ago. He could see the computer on the desk, the artefacts around the room and the bookcases lining the walls, not much had changed since Booth had described that very same place to him many years before.

"Excuse me." A feminine voice behind Don startled him and he quickly turned around once he regained composure. "Hey... what are you do-" Angela's question was silenced by Don placing his hand over her mouth, dragging her into the office.

"Shh. You have a very good memory Angela. Booth suspected you might remember me, but for now, I need you to have no clue who I am."

Angela looked at Don in confusion, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, her forearms resting on a very noticeable baby bump. "So you want me to pretend like I have no clue who you are?" Don gave her a quick nod, ushering her towards the door.

"Just pretend like this is the first time we met, and whatever you do, don't let them know I'm from Philadelphia or that I know Booth, okay?"

* * *

A couple of hours passed by before Hodgins called Don down to see the results. In that time, Don had acquainted himself with the Medico-Legal lab of the Jeffersonian; he'd had tea and coffee with Angela, despite the late hour and had been given details of the pregnancy to pass onto Booth and Brennan when he arrived back in Philadelphia.

"Dr Hodgins, please tell me you have some good news." Don looked at the screen that Hodgins was working on, keys frantically being stroked on the keyboard as he went along. Suddenly, the screen began beeping and a dot flashed somewhere to the right on what Don could only figure was a map.

"I've analysed the dirt and particulate samples you brought with you and I have narrowed the location down to a small area in Philadelphia." Hodgins reached over to the printer as a sheet was fed out with the details he'd discovered. Don reached over to take the sheet, but Hodgins quickly swiped his hand, and the sheet, out of reach. "I'll give you the details, Agent Palmer, when you tell me what this is _really_ about."

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Don needed that information, but he was under strict orders not to reveal his true identity or motive for coming to the Jeffersonian. Making a quick decision, he pulled out his phone, dialled a number and held it to his ear.

_"Director Booth speaking"_

"Hey, it's Don. I have a Dr Jack Hodgins here who isn't cooperating with me, refusing to hand over his findings. What do you want me to do about it Sir?"

Three hours away, Booth thought carefully about how to proceed. _"Call Dr Saroyan in, she's his boss and she can threaten him with insubordination and lack of cooperation in a Federal investigation. It might work, but there's also a chance he'll simply ignore you. If it comes to it, call me back, through my office phone, and I'll have a word to him myself."_

Don nodded. "Dr Saroyan" he called, and immediately he heard the familiar clicking of three inch pumps making their way towards him. "Dr Saroyan, Dr Hodgins here refuses to cooperate. I can have him arrested on charges of interfering with a Federal investigation, and have him detained for at least 48 hours, unless there's something you can do."

Cam sighed; she should've seen this coming too. "Dr Hodgins, just give the man the info he wants so we can all go home. I don't know about you, but I actually had plans for tonight, and now, instead, I just want to get the hell outta here and have a glass of wine at home. So give this nice Agent the information he came for."

Giving Don the evil eye and a conspiratorial once-over, Hodgins handed the papers to Don, who quickly skimmed over them.

"The leaves and composition of the dirt narrowed my search down to North-east Philadelphia, somewhere along the Delaware River, but not necessarily along its banks. You're probably looking for an industrial estate of some kind, petroleum residue in the soil was in high concentrations so it could have been near a petrol station, or somewhere where an oil spill had previously occurred in the last twenty years."

Hodgins sighed, his results hadn't narrowed the search area enough for his liking. "Okay, intuitive leap. You guys are looking for a kidnap victim, a woman, right? Well, I'd say you're looking for an abandoned warehouse in the area. The particulates in the samples didn't narrow the search much; they've just given you a what, five mile radius area to work with. But if you're looking for someone who's been kidnapped-"

"Dr Hodgins, I am _FBI_, this is my sort of thing. They won't keep her somewhere public, especially not with her profile, and it needs to be somewhere where someone won't stumble across her and where this guy can keep his operation running from. He hasn't got enough money, we think, to head up a business front, so they're bound to be squatters." Don said his entire statement in a clinical tone, like it was a regular occurrence that he'd come across these circumstances, when in fact, kidnap and ransoms were hardly part of his jurisdiction in Major Crimes.

"Is that all, Agent Palmer?" queried Cam, her tone quite irritated and her foot tapping anxiously on the floor. "It's well past knock-off time for us, and unfortunately, we won't be getting paid overtime for this work, so I'd thank you if you left and took your Federal business with you." With that, Cam turned on her heel and headed back to her office, Hodgins and Angela in tow.

Don sighed, rolled his eyes and made his way out of the Jeffersonian and back to his car, his phone already dialling Booth.

* * *

The darkness quickly faded as a door opened, letting in bright rays of light. Brennan slowly crawled into the darkest corner she could find. She opened her eyes slowly, her retinas adjusting tot eh harshness of the bright light filtering into the room. Immediately Brennan had a clue as to where she was. It was a basement of some sort, somewhere where no one would find her, and her heart rate increased as she realised just how hopeless her cause could really be.

A figure emerged in the doorway, blocking a majority of the light, and Brennan instantly stilled, her eyes slamming shut as her natural instincts kicked in.

"I know you're playin' possum, love, so you might as well get yourself comfortable. No-one's coming for you for a long time, darlin'." Though she could not see the man's face, she could tell that he was wearing a smirk, feeling powerful that he had her locked up in some dingy basement as leverage against Booth.

"No!" Brennan tried to cry out, her voice gravely from being so unused and her being so parched. She wanted to yell more, but something inside her told her to keep quiet for a little longer, to keep her safe for a few more days.

It was the sound of a gun cocking right behind her head that had her frozen in fear, petrified to speak another word or make another move...


	16. Chapter 16

_So this is a short chapter. I apologize for the delay, it's been almost a month since I last updated this fic. with everything that's been going on, I could probably make 100 excuses up for you guys, but I wont. The next part to this chapter will be posted (hopefully) within the next few days, but I thought it was a bout time to give you a morsel of what's to come. This is only about half of what's written for this chapter, plus there's more to come in the next bit as well. It was either over 6000 words in one chap, or a little over 2000 in one and more in the next. _

_So please enjoy...  
_

**Chapter 16**

_It was the sound of a gun cocking right behind her head that had her frozen in fear, petrified to speak another word or make another move... _

Everything went black. Her mind was quickly fading, and all of her last thoughts circled around Booth, hoping he'd never find her mangled, bloody body. He was better off not knowing what happened to her than knowing and blaming himself forever.

* * *

"Booth, it's Don", he didn't wait for Booth to respond before relaying the info he'd just gotten from the Jeffersonian. "I just jumped in the car, and I'm on my way back. Dr Hodgins analysed everything we brought him and he gave us an idea of where to look for Dr Brennan. There's an industrial estate north of Philadelphia, along the Delaware River. There's a bunch of abandoned warehouses in that area that would probably suit Laurence nicely. Dr Hodgins also hasn't finished analysing all of the samples thoroughly. He promised me that he'd get back to me tomorrow if there was something else of importance. But for now, Booth, assemble some teams and get them to run some backgrounds on that area. Check a five mile radius for the centre of that industrial estate, and work from there. We'll storm them once I get back."

* * *

The facts barely registered in Booth's mind before he was out in the bullpen barking orders and details from their new findings in the Laurence Case.

Not twenty minutes later, after Booth had locked himself back in his office with maps and lists strewn across his desk, floor and any available surface he could find, a scrawny 'green' agent knocked gingerly on Booth's door. "Director Booth," he called, stepping just inside the door. Booth looked up from the map he was perusing, a marker and ruler in hand, and waved the agent in. "We have a handful of locations to search, sir. Agent Johnson and his men did histories of the warehouses in the district, and there were about six that were abandoned." The man, Agent Benson, produced a slip of paper, gesturing for Booth to take it. "If you'd like to look over these locations on the map, position them and rank them in order of entrance, we can get this operation underway."

The agent quickly scuttled from Booth's office, almost as quickly as he arrived. Booth was hardly surprised by the man's reactions, after all, he had spent the last two days barking orders at every agent, assistant and consultant that happened to, unfortunately, set foot into the building. Nevertheless, Booth pushed the thoughts of his poor treatment of everyone to the back of his mind, picking up his maps and notes and pushing himself into the flurry that was the Philadelphia FBI Field Office.

For late on a Wednesday night, there were an incredible number of agents scurrying around the office. Unable to discern one conversation from another as the volume escalated to painful, Booth raised two fingers to his mouth and whistled, drawing silence from every single person in the expansive office. Happy with the reaction, Booth drew a deep breath and began barking another set of orders.

"Johnson, Dennehy, I want you two over here with me, the rest of you can pack up and head home for the night. All those trained for Special Ops and field work, I want you back here at 07:00 hours, and not a minute later, geared up and ready for an assault on these warehouses." As the office slowly emptied, Booth turned to two of his leading agents, Special Agent Elmer Dennehy – Dpn's right hand man and a senior agent who specialised in drug busts back in the eighties – and Agent Henry Johnson – a transfer from Los Angeles, Special Agent In Charge of Major Crimes from 1998 to 2009, when he moved to Philadelphia with his wife and kids.

Booth quickly, and thoroughly, cleared off a desk, his arm sweeping the contents into a messy heap on the floor. He quickly set his maps down, opening them up and throwing his notes on the desk beside them.

"These" began Booth, his finger pointing to red flags over the map "are the locations of perhaps the most likely warehouses where Laurence would be hiding out. We don't have much on the guy, but to run an operation like his, he'd need a large space. The particulates analysed in Washington earlier tonight also mean that there's a high chance that these would be the buildings we're looking for."

Dennehy and Johnson nodded silently, arms folded over their chests as they listened intently to Booth's instructions.

"Dr Brennan is our number one priority, guys, so there will be no cock ups on this one. Apprehending suspects and known associates of Laurence and McLeod are secondary to her safety. If making an arrest will directly endanger her, do not proceed, otherwise you'll have me to answer to!"

The agents both nodded, knowing full well _exactly_ what would happen to them if something happened to Doctor Brennan. Their years working with Booth had taught them that if he was passionate about something and gave an order regarding it, it was best not to mess with him. One man had been suspended for a month for disregarding an order to not arrest a suspect given by Booth.

"So," began Dennehy, analysing the map, "I'm guessing we split into teams to hit these places, since there's only half a dozen."

"Not without Palmer" interrupted Booth. "He's on his way back and he wants in on this, since he's actually met Dr Brennan as well as been following this case in its entirety."

The three men nodded in unison, a silent agreement being made, while they spent the next little while going over their plan of attack for the warehouses come morning.

By the time they'd agreed on a plan, the clock was ticking well past midnight, Don would be returning to Philadelphia within the next hour, and Booth, Dennehy and Johnson agreed to call it a night.

"Night, Boss," called Dennehy as he pressed the button to the elevator, quickly being joined by Johnson as the light above came on and a 'ping' sounded.

Before Booth could answer, the two men had boarded the elevator and the doors had shut. "Yeah... night" he said to nobody, the office suddenly seeming too empty and quiet for his own sanity.

* * *

It took Booth a few moments to collect his thoughts before finally making a move from the table in the middle of the bullpen. Rolling up the maps, Booth made his way back to his office, dropping the papers unceremoniously onto the desk and took his seat.

What bothered him the most about this particular case was the way the pieces were fitting together. Laurence was the lead for all of the crimes; he was the man in charge, the man running the show. But McLeod was his right hand man, and he was much smarter than he played himself as. And it was that which had Booth double thinking their whole approach to the case.

Dialling Don's cell, Booth pulled out as many case files as he could, opening them out on his desk and analysing them as he held a conversation with Don.

"What if Laurence wasn't in charge?"

_"What do you mean, Booth? It's always been Laurence; everyone in the organisation we've questioned has given him to us."_

Booth nodded, scanning over recent interview transcripts. "Yeah, and that's exactly it. _Every_ person gives us Laurence. Usually in these crime gangs you get someone who spills that another person is pulling the strings somewhere, on something. But there's nothing. Murder, laundering, extortion, kidnapping... all of these crimes have Laurence as our guy, but it's not his M.O."

_Don thought carefully, giving as much attention to Booth's idea as he could without crashing the SUV. "So what if you're right. Say there is someone else, Booth. Who's the Wizard in this case? Who's the man behind the curtain?"_

Booth thought for a second, racking his brain. "That's just it, I can't peg any of the guys we've talked to or know about. And without some shred of evidence, I have no cause for a warrant to even _begin_ a search for a new guy."

_Don sighed, the long day taking its toll on him. "Look, I should be back in half an hour or so. We'll go over everything we've got then. And don't forget, your Bug guy still has some evidence left to analyse." He paused before continuing, "Everything will work itself out, Boss. We'll get the Doc back, and we'll get the right guy, eventually. Just be patient. And think of what Dr Brennan would do in this situation..."_

Booth scoffed. "She'd do exactly what I'm doing right now... stay up all night looking for some kind of connection, something she overlooked in the evidence, until I come to rescue her from the lab in the middle of the night." Booth smiled at the memories the thought invoked. "Thanks, Don. Really. I'll see you soon. Drive safe."

* * *

Booth took Don's advice, and sat himself down with a glass of water and the case files, poring over them looking for the connection he missed. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep, the exhaustion of the case and Brennan's kidnapping finally taking its toll on his mind, his body slumping down on the couch, recharging and readying Booth for what would be one of the most trying days of his life.

* * *

The tap on his shoulder and the shaking of his body roused Booth from his slumber, a coffee immediately finding its way into his hand. He nodded his thanks to Don who was standing in front of him, showered and clean-shaven.

"Did you find the missing link?" Don sipped his own coffee and took purchase leaning against Booth's desk.

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "Not yet, but the photos from the letter should be back from the lab soon. By the way, what is the time?"

Don checked his watch, "6:30, you'll have just enough time to shower and change for the day. There's a bag of spare clothes down in the gym, right?" Don knew Booth a little too well for Booth's liking, but he still nodded his appreciation before making his way down to the basement gym for a shower.

Upon his return, dressed in a pair of comfy dark blue jeans, his favourite FBI jacket and his Vegas 'Guys 'n' Dolls Jr.' T-shirt, Booth took note of the small gathering of his agents that were standing around the office, geared up and cups of coffee in hand, ready for the day ahead of them. He had a brief conference with Don, Johnson and Dennehy in his office before stepping back out to address the teams.

"Men, today may well be one of the most important days of your FBI career. We'll be splitting into three teams of eight men, with SWAT to back us up at each location that we will storm this morning. Agents Dennehy, Johnson and Palmer will be the leaders, and together we have agreed on which warehouses to enter first, based on forensic evi-" Before Booth could finish his sentence, a short, balding man wearing a white lab coat came rushing up to him, and whispered something into his ear. "Excuse us, gentleman. Talk amongst yourselves, bathroom break, or whatever, while we sort this out."

Booth, Johnson, Dennehy and Don all followed the short man into Booth's office, closing the door behind them.

"The lab just finished analysing these photographs for you, Director Booth. There was only one set of fingerprints, matching your suspect you brought in the other day, McLeod. We also determined a height for your mystery photographer." The man paused, thinking over whether or not to continue, jumping when Booth's voice suddenly boomed, and urged him on. He hesitated once more, making a sound similar to ones Zack used to make when he was unsure of what to do, before finally continuing. "Uh, there was also this, delivered about five minutes ago. It's addressed to you, sir, and the receptionist urged me to bring it to you."

Booth was presented with a small yellow envelope, which he quickly tore into. An expletive escaped from under his breath as Booth looked over the photograph in his hand. Lying on the floor, limp, a pool of blood surrounding her, was Brennan, the torch beam shining onto her from where the photographer stood. Booth flipped it over, and in red block letters were the words:

**_TIK TOK, DIRECTOR BOOTH. TIK. TOK._**

**.**

* * *

_Cliffhanger..._

_More to come shortly._

_Please review, I'd love to reach 100 reviews before this story ends... let's call it my Christmas/Birthday/New Years wish :D  
_


	17. Chapter 17

_Once again, I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. You guys give me the inspiration to keep going._

_There will be about 2 more chapters after this one, and then an epilogue, so **Hey Jealousy** will hopefully round off on 20 chapters._

_Also, last chapter I said this one would probably be up within the next couple of days, but instead it's taken about 5 I think, and I apologise. I didn't want to post this chapter until I was happy with it.  
_

* * *

.

**Chapter 17**

_Lying on the floor, limp, a pool of blood surrounding her, was Brennan, the torch beam shining onto her from where the photographer stood. Booth flipped it over, and in red block letters were the words:_

**_TIK TOK, DIRECTOR BOOTH. TIK. TOK._**

* * *

.

"Is that _blood_?" Asked Don in disgust, as he peered over Booth's shoulder to get a better look at what had been handed to him.

In shock, Booth stepped backwards, finding a seat and slumping down. He'd never seen Brennan's body in such a way. Yet here it was, depicted in a photograph, of her once strong body lying limply on the floor of some warehouse, the fight having been sucked from her over the past days.

The man from the lab extracted the photo from Booth's white fingers, taking a closer look at the details. "From this photo, Director Booth, I can tell that it was taken at night, probably last night, since the guy needed a torch to light up the woman on the floor. The last photo had sunlight streaming through the window in the back. Also, I can tell you that this photo was taken in the same place, the schematics of the room haven't changed since the last note..."

Booth's mind barely registered what the man was saying as he hung his head in defeat. Sure, there was no proof that Brennan was actually dead, or that it was even her blood on the floor, but there was a high chance that it was.

"Alright." He sighed, finally pulling himself from the chair. He scrubbed a nervous hand over his face, rolled his shoulders back and prepared himself for what was to come. "No more delays. We charge the warehouses today. We're leaving in twenty minutes-"

Booth was cut off by the ringing of Don's cell, and seeing the familiar number, Booth insisted Don answer.

"Hello, Doctor Hodgins, it's a surprise to hear from you."

_"Hello to you too, Agent Palmer. I finished analysing the samples you brought to us yesterday. "_

"Could you hurry this up, Dr Hodgins? You kinda caught us at a bad time."

_"Us?"_ questioned Hodgins, the ever growing conspiracy theorist in him suddenly eager to know what was really going on with Don.

Don quickly backpedalled, hoping that he hadn't tipped Hodgins off with what he'd said. "Yeah, we're about to go to one of the warehouses in the district you pointed out to us. Did you find something?"

_"Sure, man. I'm thinking I might've caught you just in time though, by the sounds of things. I had another look at the samples you handed to me yesterday. There was something in the mass spec I was having trouble isolating last night. So I came into the lab this morning and had another crack at it. It turns out that it was a mixture of a rare tree sap, petroleum and fine sand. It was in the sole of one of your victims' shoes. There are only a couple of places that would have these, and it's in the eastern part of North Philadelphia. I did some research for you before I called, and there was a company called 'Harpy Waste Management Services' that ran out of the industrial district and serviced that area. All of the particulates can be linked to that particular place. It's on..."_

"East Venango Street."

_"How'd you know?"_

Don scrambled around Booth's office for a second; finally pulling a sheet of paper that was sitting on top of the maps. "Because, Dr Hodgins, that's one of the places we're about to hit, it's first on our list of possibilities." Don looked to Booth, and they exchanged a few mouthed words before Don put the phone back to his ear.

"Looks like you were right, Dr Hodgins. Thank you very much for your efforts. Your country is grateful for it."

_"I expect a cheque in the mail!" _joked Hodgins, before hanging up the phone.

* * *

.

"There's one more thing, Director Booth that you should know about the photos." Booth gave his full attention to the man before he continued. "Forensics was able to discern from the two photographs an approximate description of your guy." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. "around 5'8" in height. From reflections off the windows in the first photograph, we caught sight of the hallway behind the photographer. There weren't any stairs directly behind it, so we know for sure that the guy has to be around 5'8" or 5'9"."

Booth nodded. From what the man had just told him, he knew something felt off about the whole case. Flipping through a file from his desk, listing Laurence, his associates and all of their specs, Booth finally let out an expletive under his breath. He threw the folder down onto the table, a startling snap shocking all of the occupants of the room to pay attention.

"We had him, Don!" he shouted, his hands fisting as he slammed them, too, onto the desk. "**We had him and we let him go**!" Don just looked on at Booth with utter confusion scrawled across his face. Booth picked up the file and shoved it into Don's hands. "**McLeod!** We had him, in that damn interrogation room, and we let him go. It's not Laurence who's behind all of this, it's McLeod. He's been running this whole operation, and the whole time, even in the interrogation room, he's had us fooled thinking it was Laurence who was in charge!"

Within moments of the realisation sinking into Don, the teams were storming out of the building, ready to launch their attack on Laurence and McLeod.

* * *

.

Five vehicles pulled up outside the former residence of 'Harpy Waste Management Systems', including one SWAT truck, men quickly piling out, geared up and ready for action. Climbing out of his own SUV, Booth went round the back, opened the boot and pulled out a bullet proof vest for himself, and one for Don.

"Can we get thermal imaging on this building!" he called to another agent who pulled out a laptop and fancy looking camera. Wandering over to the screen, vest now firmly in place, Booth and Don looked over the video feed of the thermal signatures of the building.

"Second floor's empty, Boss, but there's a bunch of men on the ground floor, scattered around, probably forming a perimeter." Don continued to give a running commentary of what came up on the screen as Booth gave more orders to his agents, but he stopped suddenly, pulling Booth's attention to the screen.

"What? What do you see Don?" asked Booth, who was now paying full attention to what Don had was saying to him.

Don pointed a finger at the screen. "There's a small heat signature coming up here, barely even registering, so it could be anything. Problem is, I can't tell exactly where it is, which means I can't be sure or not if it's Doctor Brennan..." Don paused for a second, turning to face Booth and looking him straight in the eye he continued. "You know, she might not even be here, Booth. What's your plan if that's the case?"

Booth scratched his head and looked around at all of the men he had assembled outside the warehouse, taking note of the early hour. He leaned close to Don, and in a voice that only he and Don could hear, gave his explanation. "If that's the case, Don, I'll tear apart the whole of Philadelphia to find her if I have to. But..." Booth began to smirk, a deep, dark chuckle rolling from his lips, "I have my... methods, if you will, to get the answers I need."

Don was kind of freaked by Booth's comment, but quickly chuckled light heartedly and patted Booth on the shoulder. "They had it coming!"

* * *

.

The only two entrances into the warehouse both burst open in unison, with eight men storming in through each of them, guns instantly training on the men already occupying the building. Booth entered last, his rifle scoping the room as he made his way in between the men. Don gave instructions to restrain Laurence's men with cable ties and handcuffs, the orders quickly being followed as Booth went in search for Laurence, McLeod and Brennan.

It didn't take Booth long to spot McLeod trying to make his escape up to the second floor, his gun never losing track of McLeod as Booth weaved and bobbed between the men and to the bottom of the stairwell, following McLeod's steps.

"I know he's here somewhere, McLeod. You can't keep Laurence hidden forever. It might be you pulling the strings and calling the shots, but he's in just as deep as you are!"

There were only a handful of rooms in the upstairs area, mostly along the back wall where they had served as offices for the previous occupants. From what Booth could deduce, Laurence and McLeod had turned them into holding rooms for their 'products' as well as their own offices for their business fronts. However, even with only half a dozen rooms to work through, Booth knew there was a great chance McLeod could slip past him and escape with ease.

"You know," called Booth, keeping his steps silent as he opened the first door he came across, "Bones once said that I'm obsessed with 'the why', and she's right. What I don't get is why you created this 'Laurence' persona in the first place. Was there really someone called Laurence, or is it just a made-up name you got your FBI or cop friends to put into the system for you?"

Booth cleared the room, shutting the door behind him, but leaving it just a crack open – harder for McLeod to imitate if he chose to run into that room later.

It didn't take long for a response to be called back. "Your doctor friend is smart, Booth, maybe a little too smart for her own good." Booth couldn't see McLeod, but a part of him just _knew_ that he was smirking, a conspiratorial plan forming in his head. "I'll tell you the why, only because it might make you see sense that your plan will most likely fail."

"Laurence is a persona thought up by me, he was never a real guy. We didn't steal anybody's identity, we simply... hid one of our men's real identities behind a mask. You see..."

"Yeah, I know, I kinda guessed already, McLeod," Booth cleared another two of the rooms, McLeod's voice leaving a trail for him to follow. "Laurence is the fall guy, he gets the fame and fortune for all of your work, but he's also the one who goes to jail. A bit like a..."

"...suicide mission, Agent Booth? It's kind of... sweet how we can finish each other's sentences. Do you have that kind of special bond with your doctor friend?" he taunted.

Booth was about ready to swap the rifle for some grenades and throw them willy-nilly into each of the rooms. McLeod had spent the last six months getting on his nerves, and now he'd finally peaked, driving Booth to the brink of insanity by kidnapping Brennan, and Booth's patience for McLeod's games was wearing thin at an alarming rate.

"_Our_ special bond's different from what Brennan and I have. We _know_ each other, alright. We don't hide behind a front man, we don't play cat and mouse, and we are most _definitely_ on the same side!" growled Booth, firing a warning shot into the wall of the second to last room he had left to search.

"Really?" teased McLeod, not budging from where he'd positioned himself. "Because, I'm pretty sure you weren't on the same side that night I brought her here. In fact, if I recall correctly, you two completely disagreed on, what was it...? Bad decisions of the past? You certainly weren't on the same page for _that_ conversation, and I'm pretty sure she wasn't on your side when she stormed off like she did."

McLeod paused for a minute, a Cheshire Cat-like grin forming on his lips as he recalled earlier encounters with Brennan. "She's a real firecracker, that Doctor of yours. A feisty little beast, I'd love to know what she's like in the sack..."

McLeod was too busy lost in his musings to notice Booth sneak up behind him. "Well, thankfully, you'll never get the chance to find out!" growled Booth into his ear as he tied McLeod's hands behind the desk chair he was sitting in with a cable tie. Booth bound the man's feet individually to the bottom caster wheels before standing back and admiring his handiwork from a few feet back.

.

* * *

.

Booth had wheeled McLeod – none too gently - down the stairs and into the main floor of the warehouse, where he finished conducting a search for Brennan.

"She's not going to be easy to find, Agent Booth" taunted McLeod from his vulnerable position. It took Booth all of three seconds to re-train his gun on McLeod's forehead.

"You really think now's the time for quips, McLeod?" retorted Booth through clenched teeth. "Seeing as how you seem to know a bit about my history, you've probably already figured out how good a shot I really am, and that I don't need to be anywhere _near_ my target to hit it dead on!"

McLeod's smirk slowly faded and he sat quietly while Booth stalked around the warehouse floor. Don was still there, sitting on a chair in the background as he waited patiently for Booth to give orders. The other men they'd already captured had been taken in, including the man now known as 'Laurence'.

Don let out a bored yawn. "Ya know, Boss, McLeod's right. He's not just going to give us Brennan – that's not how he conducts his game. We've learnt before, we've got to work to get the answers we seek..."

"Whose side are you on?" teased Booth, his shoulders dropping in defeat as he lowered the gun. "And you're right about McLeod. He knows us too well, so he knows I won't shoot him until I find Bones." This time it was Booth's turn to smirk as he approached McLeod. "Although" he drew the word out, his voice higher in pitch as he thought of all the possibilities, "It doesn't mean I can't have a little fun in the mean time."

Booth's devilish grin unsettled McLeod, and he squirmed within his bindings at the thought of what was to come.

* * *

.

Booth wasted no time in preparing himself mentally for his 'interrogation'. He'd been tortured before, back when he was in the army as well as working for the FBI. But he'd never been the one to dole it out before, to inflict that pain on someone else. Although, given his hatred towards McLeod, for all of the crimes he'd committed, for taking Brennan away from him when they were _finally_ making some sort of personal progress, Booth figured that the man was deserving of what Booth had planned. After all, to quote Don, 'He had it coming'.

Booth pulled himself a chair in front of McLeod, straddling it as he faced the man he so despised. Booth pulled out his sidearm, toying with it between his fingers as his mind sifted through countless scenarios. "You know," he began with a knowing smirk, "there's a lot of torture techniques that I've discovered over the years, so I'm sure that I could find one that would suit you _just fine_." Booth drew out the last two words for emphasis.

Booth loved this side of himself, the uninhibited risk taker, _the gambler_, the almost-homicidal maniac hidden deep within himself that he'd never let come to bear under normal circumstances. It was a side he rarely saw in himself, but saw plenty in others. But now, with someone whom he loathed so much sitting right in front of him, taunting him with the fact that he still hadn't rescued Brennan, Booth was beginning to loosen the leash he held so tightly on the beast within him. Smirking, Booth extracted the revolver from his right calf, and dropped five of the six bullets from the chamber into his hand.

"How about we a play a little Russian Roulette?" taunted Booth, snapping the chamber shut and spinning it around. A dark laugh escaped him as he got lost in a moment of nostalgia. "You know" he started, his voice slightly pointed with annoyance, yet cocky at the same time. "Bones would tell me that I shouldn't play Roulette, being the reformed gambler and all, but you probably knew that already, right?" Booth placed the cold steel barrel of the revolver against McLeod's temple, his finger itching to squeeze the trigger _just a little too hard_.

McLeod gulped hard, never before had he been so close to his own death, with someone pointing the gun at his head instead of the other way around. He eased up a little as Booth extracted the gun from his head, releasing a silent sigh of relief.

"It's kinda funny how her advice could very well be the thing that saves your life right now." Booth smirked darkly, stepping around the chair predatorily. "That is," He placed the gun against McLeod's throat this time, aiming up into the man's brain. "if it _does_ save your life. Frankly, I think the world could do without you. But, it all depends on how easy you're going to make this for me."

* * *

.

Twenty minutes passed by, and still McLeod would not give up Brennan's location. His men had searched the entire building for any sign of her being kept on the premises, but each time they came back empty handed.

Booth's patience was wearing thin. He'd been at McLeod for ages, taunting him, hurting him, even making friendly conversation with him (something that Booth believed scared McLeod even more than anything else he'd tried), but nothing seemed to work. Finally, something struck Booth, and he walked over to an office window on the ground floor and smashed it with his bare fist, the pain barely registering in his mind as he picked up a medium sized piece off the dusty floor. He wandered back to McLeod, sitting in his own chair and toying with the glass himself, finally causing a small cut on the tip of one of his fingers.

As the blood collected at the wound, Booth brought that finger to his lips, sucking at the wound, all the while his gaze never faltering from the staring contest he seemed to be having with McLeod. The rage boiling inside him, Booth stood and ripped open McLeod's shirt, running the sharp tip of the triangular piece of glass across McLeod's nearly flawless skin.

"It seems, McLeod," began Booth after watching McLeod flinch a number of times as the glass came in contact with his skin, though it never dug deep enough to withdraw blood. "That you're all too willing to dish out the pain to others, but you've never lived enough to have the scars of someone having done it to you." Booth dragged off his bullet proof vest, then pulled the neck of his t-shirt to the side.

"Do you see this scar here?" he asked, pointing to the small bullet hole on the right side of his chest. "I took a bullet for Bones, and I'd happily take another just to keep her safe." Booth dragged the glass across McLeod's chest, scoring the skin and drawing blood in a spot almost matching that of Booth's bullet scar. "It's not the first time I'd taken a bullet either, or the first time I'd been scarred in trying to help Bones." Booth's voice wavered as he spoke, and McLeod's smirk began to grace his lips, alerting Booth to the need to shut the man up.

Booth's eyes darkened to an almost black as he shot McLeod a glare. Pulling out the revolver again, Booth placed one of the spare bullets back into the chamber, giving it another spin, ready to play Roulette again. "There's one thing I don't understand, McLeod. How is it that you know so much about my past, but not any other agent's who is on this case?"

The man sat silently, pondering Booth's question. There were many reasons Booth was a personal target of his. Over the years, McLeod had seen what Booth had done, what he had become, and it wasn't as though he was on a personal vendetta against the man or anything. No.

"Well, you see, Agent Booth. This is more a matter of the wrong place at the wrong time. You aren't my fated 'worst enemy', like it is in all of those fairy tales and stuff. I don't really hold a grudge against you, because you've never done anything to me, personally. Except for, of course, just now and the stuff while you've been working this case." McLeod sighed, spotting movement in the background as Don stood and walked out of the room. "I knew who you were back in Washington. Back then you didn't have the wonderful Doctor as your partner; instead you preferred to work solo, a veil for your gambling habits. We crossed paths several times during an early case of yours. You'd been at the Bureau for nearly four years and you were pretty good at what you did. But, you see, you weren't the best. You got the wrong guy, one of _my_ guys, and you were too stubborn to see it."

McLeod gave a shrug and continued with his story. "It's alright, though, the guy was a total ass and he cocked up anyways on a number of occasions before that. You simply saved me from having to pull the trigger myself and add another body to the pile in my closet... so to speak."

Booth sighed in frustration. "So you know so much about me because I wrongfully locked up one of _your_ guys, but you're thanking me for it anyway?"

"The last bit's correct, Agent Booth, but not the why. We continued to cross paths for the next little while, seemingly unnoticed. You never _were_ able to make the connection to me in a lot of cases, but you seemed to be able to nab all of my guys. And that's when I decided to learn as much as I could about you. My 'most formidable foe' as some of my men called you. You were secretly, without your knowing, pulling down my organised crime syndicate. It wasn't long after that you started to get really close, so I packed up and moved here, of all places. Then, nearly a decade later or such, you followed me here too."

"So you started using 'Laurence' as a cover when you got here, hoping that there weren't any agents as good as me who could connect the dots and place you at the centre of a litany of different crimes?"

McLeod nodded. "But you were just naive back then anyway, Agent Booth" he teased. "And not much has changed since then either, seeing as how you couldn't connect all of the dots even when you had me in your interrogation room the last week." McLeod smiled cockily, his ego inflating faster than he thought humanly possible.

"How did that feel, Agent Booth, to know just how much of a failure you are... you can't even find a missing woman!" taunted McLeod, and Booth snapped, his patience paper thin.

Booth lunged at McLeod, knocking the chair over, his hands finding purchase on McLeod's neck. "Where is she?" he screamed, pulling the revolver on him again and placing it at his temple. "Tell me where she is, or you won't ever see the light of day again!"

McLeod actually feared for his life in that moment, his body trembling as the cold steel of the barrel rubbed against his skin. If it had been any other man holding the gun to him, he would've called their bluff, but looking into Booth's eyes, McLeod could see just how serious Booth was this time; he could feel Booth's finger pulsating on the trigger, just waiting to pull it and end this whole fiasco.

"_The basement_" he mumbled barely audibly, and when Booth pushed the barrel just that little bit harder into McLeod's head, he spoke up. "The basement."

"You're lying! There is no basement, my men have checked this place through and through." Booth's chest heaved, his breathing barely containing the rage coursing through his veins.

"Did you check the closet in the office? There's a stairwell behind..." McLeod didn't even bother finishing his explanation when he saw Booth jogging off in the direction of the office.

* * *

.

He sprinted off in the direction of the office, his heart racing in anticipation of finding Brennan. Despite having lived without her for over three years, Booth was finding it nearly impossible to last a few days without her by his side. He reached his arm out and grasped the door jamb, swinging himself around and into the office, his eyes trained on the only other door in the room – the door that would lead to the basement, to Brennan.

Behind the standing coat rack and miscellaneous cleaning equipment stood a small door, shorter than an average household door by about a foot and a half. It didn't take Booth long to figure out that the door was locked, and keeping his gun at the ready, Booth raised his leg and kicked the door with as much force as he could muster, sending it flying off its hinges and into the dark hallway. "No surprise," mused Booth aloud, pondering over just how old the building was and how long that door had been standing there rotting away.

The lack of light switch, while no surprise to Booth, hampered his rescue efforts as he peered down the narrow passage with the scarce amount of light shining through from the office.

Turning on his heel, Booth marched determinedly back into the office, frantically searching the cupboards and drawers for a flashlight, candles, or something he could use to light his way.

"Don" he called, leaning out of the office door, "I need a torch and some backup!" Within three minutes, Don was by Booth's side, two torches in one hand and a second bullet proof vest in the other.

"I think you might want this, Boss," commented Don, lifting the vest for emphasis. Booth merely shrugged, cocking his gun and taking a torch off Don as he took a step forward into the darkness.

"Let's just get this over and done with, Don, because I, for one, think it's about time we close this case once and for all."

* * *

.

The torch beam illuminated the narrow passageway as Booth cautiously stepped forward, Don in his wake. The hall widened slightly about ten metres in as steps appeared.

"Well," shrugged Booth, taking a deep breath, "I guess that this will lead to the basement McLeod was talking about. Was this even in the schematics of the building?"

Don racked his brain for a few moments, following Booth into the darkness, "I don't think so, but those plans are pretty ancient, Booth, so there's bound to be something they missed. Either that, or, based on the small door in the back of a closet and the narrow passageway, this was probably a hidden part of the building – not in the original design."

Booth nodded, keeping his eye out as they rounded a corner at the bottom of the steps.

* * *

.

The sound of footfalls in the distance brought Brennan back to consciousness. She had absolutely no idea how long she had been in the basement for, or how long she had been left alone, but Brennan had a feeling that her end was near.

The footsteps grew louder, and deep voices echoed throughout the small room. Brennan reached her hand out to pick herself off the ground and move herself further from the door, but stopped when she felt something cool, sticky and damp beneath her hands.

A gasp escaped her as she realised just _what_ was on the ground, her hand quickly raising to the right side of her head where she could feel a gaping wound.

A blackness began to consume her once again as she noticed a flicker of light trickling under the door and illuminating a patch of floor. She whimpered as her body fell limply to the ground, her mind drifting into unconsciousness once again.

* * *

.

"Bones!" called Booth, his torch waving from door to door as they searched for Brennan. There were only three doors in front of he and Don, but deciding which one to break down first was going to be a tough decision.

"Just pick one already, Booth!" shouted Don on a frustrated sigh, his patience wearing thin as he stepped forward to make the decision for Booth instead.

The first door he pounded in had nothing behind it but a card table, a candle, two pistols and a deck of cards strewn about the floor and table. Booth looked around the room.

"_Shh_" he whispered to Don, and then pointed to the table. "_There's fresh cigar smoke lingering, and that candle's still burning._" Don tapped his nose, eyeing Booth as he cottoned onto the fact that whoever was in that room only just left, probably as they came storming in.

Booth quickly shone his torch back down the passage that they had just come. There was no way that the man or men down in the basement had passed them, and there was no other way out from down there. The only possibility was that he/they were hiding in one of the two other rooms at the end of the hall.

Don silently signalled to Booth with his hands which room they would enter next, and they positioned themselves outside the door. Again, Don kicked the door in, his torch scanning the room quickly, and stopping on two figures hiding in a corner next to the door.

They cowered under the light that Don shone, and Booth swore that he heard a whimper from one of the men as he approached, cable ties in his hands, ready to restrain them and take them back upstairs.

From the look on one of the man's faces, both Booth and Don could tell the men were petrified of what was to come. Don figured that they hadn't seen the light of day in a while, keeping their post watching over Brennan and any of the other prisoners that they may have been kept in the warehouse over the last few years.

Don turned to Booth, concern etched on his face. "Brennan isn't in here Booth. And if she's not in the next room, what the hell are you going to do?"

It didn't take Booth long to figure out his plan of action, and before turning out of the room, Don saw Booth slide his finger across his throat. The action alone was enough to give Don a shiver of fear.

* * *

.

It was the moment of truth. Was Dr Brennan behind door number three? Or had McLeod once again led them on?

Booth closed his eyes and drew in a cleansing breath, releasing it through clenched teeth before he mustered up the courage to kick the door in.

"It's now or never, Booth," encouraged Don, his hand coming to rest on Booth's shoulder with a soft pat.

The door all but flew off its hinges with the force Booth put behind his kick. "Bones!" he called, gun at the ready in case there was another one of McLeod's lackeys lurking in the dark.

That's when he saw it. The dark liquid covering the floor, the limp and seemingly lifeless body lying in the puddle. Booth blinked his eyes twice, checking to make sure that what he saw was actually real and not another figment of his imagination. But the light coming from his torch illuminated the room and gave no room for argument.

Booth was on his knees, by her side in a matter of seconds, pulling her body into his lap and cradling her head as he gingerly checked out the wound. He didn't care if he got covered in her blood; lord knew it wasn't the first time. A quick nod of his head to Don, and Don was on the phone, calling for an ambulance.

"Bones, wake up. Wake up Bones, talk to me." Brennan was still out of it, no response coming from her. But as Booth held her even closer, pulling her into his chest and placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, he could feel her beginning to respond, her muscles twitching under the warmth of Booth's embrace.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Bones. Everything will be fine...", but Booth wasn't even sure if that would be true.

.

* * *

.

_Ok, so it was a bit OOC of Booth to do the torture, but I think we all think he has it in him, especially when it comes to Brennan. And can anyone guess where I got my ideas from for the torture scenes?  
_

_Reviews are much appreciated, and thanks for reading  
_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: It's been over two months since I last posted, and I really do feel bad about it. But depressing episodes and a well earned vacation halted my writing efforts. But just like the Good Ol' Booth and Brennan, 'I'm Back, Baby'. There's one more chapter and then an epilogue for this story, and I can't wait to share them with you all._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 18**

Brennan was still out of it by the time the ambulance arrived. Booth had picked her up and carried her from the warehouse basement, out through the warehouse and into the street before resting her in the back of his SUV, where he'd practically smothered her, wrapping her in a blanket and bringing her water. When the ambulance had arrived, Booth had been right there with her while they hooked her up to the IV drip and other machines, before taking her to the hospital.

Don had excused Booth from the paperwork side of the operation, stating that he would collect Booth's statement at a later time, while Booth spent his time accompanying Brennan to the hospital.

By the time Brennan had been stitched up, and all kinds of monitors had been attached to her in her private room, Brennan was still out cold. She had awoken for a brief period in the ambulance, where she attempted sitting up and fell back down, unconscious, only moments later.

It was early afternoon when Brennan finally awoke. She looked around the brightly lit hospital room, wondering how on earth she'd come to be here. Her eyes fixed on a body sitting in a chair beside her bed, clutching her hand while the person rested their head on folded arms on the mattress. At a second glance, Brennan realised it was Booth, and immediately began tugging her hand out of his grip, rousing Booth from his light sleep.

He'd never seen such fear in her eyes before. She had faced down death, stood there, with weapons pointed directly at her, their wielders intent on killing her and never once faltered her gaze, keeping her calm, cool, stubborn demeanour. But as Booth watched Brennan watch himself, he could tell that something was frightening her. With what little space that was left on her hospital bed, Brennan scooted away from Booth, her hands coming up to clutch the white blanket as close to her as she could, her eyes flickering away from Booth's intense gaze.

"What's wrong, Bones?" asked Booth, his hand reaching across the bed to try and grasp hers again, only to watch as they retreated from his touch.

"Please" pleaded Brennan, tears starting to brim her eyes as a blush rose on her cheeks. "Please don't... don't touch me."

A pain tore through Booth's chest at Brennan's words. His eyes pleaded with hers, begging her to explain why everything was so messed up. He knew nothing of what had happened to Brennan in that basement and only the worst, most horrific thoughts could shuffle through his mind right now. Assault, torture... rape.

"I can't... I can't do this anymore Booth." A lump rose in Brennan's throat, her tears threatening to spill over as she forced herself to go on. "There's too much at stake... and... and... I can't do this Booth. I'm not a heart person. That's you. That's Angela. But it's not me, and I can't do this anymore." Brennan's eyes fell, the tears slipping down her cheeks leaving hot trails of pain and despair in their wake. When she looked up again, she saw the pain etched onto Booth's features. An ache ripped through her chest at that look on his face.

"Do what?" begged Booth when he caught her looking at him. His hands turned white gripping the mattress in an attempt not to reach out and touch Brennan, to comfort her, to comfort himself.

"I can't let myself... I can't be here anymore..." she sighed again. "This whole thing happened because I was here Booth! And... I was here because I... I love you, Booth. And if I hadn't been here, if I hadn't followed my 'heart', none of this would have happened-"

"You don't know that, Temperance" interrupted Booth as he struggled to comprehend what she was saying.

"And neither do you! But I do know that I would be safe at home in Washington and you would be-"

"Broken," finished Booth, the tether he held on his emotions faltering slightly as he moved from his chair, and leaning over the bed, he placed a gentle kiss in Brennan's lips. "I don't understand any of this, Bones, at all, and I probably never will." His voice cracked from the emotions. The tension between himself and Brennan had never been thicker than this moment. His hand gently caressed Brennan's cheek, wiping the tears trickling down, leaving burning trails. Booth wanted nothing more than to throw himself at Brennan, comfort her, but he kept his distance, sharing only the gentle caress as his pleading eyes bore into hers.

Brennan repeated her pleading words from all those years before. "Please don't look so sad."

Brennan's hospital room fell into silence for a few moments as Booth rested his forehead against Brennan's, willing their tender moment to last forever. Reluctantly pulling away, his eyes shining with unshed tears, Booth cleared his throat and spoke up. "Will I ever see you again?"

Brennan shook her head slightly, her voice raw and wavering with emotion "I don't know." And with those words, Booth tore himself from Brennan, sighing in defeat as he trudged towards her hospital room door. Grasping the doorframe and turning back to her one last time.

"If you change your mind, Bones," he sighed, looking to the floor and then up at her again, "meet me on Penn's Landing at 9 pm tomorrow night. If you're not there... I guess we just weren't meant to be, and I won't bother you again, Bones." He didn't give her a chance to reply as he gently closed the door behind him, stepping out into the corridor to start a new chapter of his life.

oOo

Booth took the liberty of spending the remainder of his Friday afternoon working his ass off at work. Many of his colleagues approached him about why he looked so forlorn and lost, but he dismissed them all, his mood rapidly changing into something dark.

Don eventually coaxed Booth into spending time at the shooting range, emptying magazine after magazine of bullets into the target 30 feet away, before taking him for a beer at an Irish pub just down the street from the Bureau.

"So, since your doctor friend strolled into town last week, you've spent approximately 140 hours either working, working out, or shooting at a lifeless target. There are 168 hours in a week... so that means you've spent just a little over a day away from this hell hole. What the hell is up with you, Booth?"

Booth chuckled darkly, staring down into his beer. "You know, Don, you get very philosophical after a few drinks..." Don stared seriously at Booth, breaking the attempt at humour. "Alright, alright. So this week hasn't exactly gone to plan, but I don't want to talk about it. Bones, she got... kidnapped. It's my job to find and save people, so most of those hours don't even count," he commented, trying to reason his lack of social life. "I'm sure I would've spent more time away if Bones was actually there, and not in some stupid dungeon type basement of an abandoned building."

Don chuckled at the side of himself that Booth was showing him. Never before had Don seen Booth acting so childlike, defending something as silly as working hours.

"I think, Booth, it's time we got you home."

oOo

"12:15? That's the flight time?" enquired Brennan, the phone slipping from her ear slightly as she leaned forward to sign the release papers. "Yes, I'll be there Jennifer, ready to catch the flight." Brennan paused for another second, her flawless signature fleeting across the pages as she listened to what her publicist was telling her. "Two book signings, three interviews and a dinner tomorrow? Yes, that would be perfectly alright... my personal business has been attended to- I assure you, Jennifer, that I will be there this time."

Brennan let out a huff of annoyance at her publicists implications that she'd 'dropped off the face of the earth', when in fact she had no control over the situation. And although she desperately wanted to end the phone call as quickly as possible and head back to her hotel room for a hot bath, Brennan wasn't about ready to spill her ordeal to the media.

"Thank you Jennifer. I'll see you tomorrow. Yes, have a good day." Brennan slipped her phone into her pocket and nodded thanks to the administrator who was checking her release papers.

"This goes against doctors orders," she stated, checking the signatures and filing the paperwork before handing Brennan a hand-scrawled note. "If any of these symptoms appear, immediately contact your doctor or return to the hospital, Dr Brennan. If there were family of sorts to care for you here, I would advise you remain with them for the duration of your stay, but that phone call obviously indicates there is pertinent business you must attend, so..."

Brennan pursed her lips and nodded. "Seek medical assistance immediately." The woman behind the desk nodded and Brennan slipped away into the stream of visitors and out the doors of the hospital as quickly as possible.

oOo

Brennan spent her Saturday as planned, buried within her work- interviews and signings with the public; meetings and meals with persons of importance, at least to Brennan's publisher. She had weaselled her way out of avenues of questioning involving her absence during the week. Compared to other questions she was asked, though, Brennan considered her ordeal something much easier to cover up than the falling out that had taken place at the hospital merely hours after she had been found.

"Is it true that yourself and Director Booth of the FBI here in Philadelphia are dating?" Brennan cringed at the question that had been thrown at her from out of nowhere by a journalist from The Philadelphia Inquirer. Thankfully she covered her hurt look by reaching for the glass of water, washing down the remnants of her salad before answering.

"The Director and I are old friends from a while back," stated Brennan in her clinical tone, looking the reporter directly in her eyes. "Though our colleagues once stated that we had chemistry, there is nothing between Director Booth and I. Our relationship is purely platonic."

oOo

Booth's Saturday had taken a turn for the worst. Despite his best attempts, he was unable to shake the nagging feeling deep within his heart that he had, once again, let something great slip from his grasp. His extreme workout in the FBI gym at five that morning had distracted his heart long enough for him to, as Brennan would say, compartmentalise his feelings. After the workout, towers of paperwork from the past week beckoned him to his office. They served as a reasonable distraction until a knock on his office door shook him from his reverie at 8:30.

"Do you want to talk?" enquired Don as he shuffled into the room. He'd been watching Booth closely since he returned from the hospital the day before. The look that Booth gave him was enough of a warning. "Alright then. How about a lunch break? "

Booth looked up from his paperwork. Leaving his office would mean that he would have to face... people, something which Booth felt, in his state, could be a potential disaster. Sighing, Booth decided the silent treatment to Don was hardly fair, since the man was only trying to help out a friend.

"Things didn't go great at the hospital..."

"I gathered," quipped Don, a snort escaping him before he recomposed himself. "It's been a long case, Booth. Take a break; spend some time figuring everything out. Hell, take a freaking holiday or something of the sort. You moping around the office and ignoring everyone is hardly productive."

"Nice try, Don" joked Booth, tossing his pen onto the desk and relaxing back into his chair. "You come into my office asking if I wanna talk about it... You can't turn around and try to avoid the topic Don-"

"Could say the same about you, Boss." Don and Booth both took a moment to laugh about Don's ploy to get Booth to open up.

"Touché!" Booth's eyebrows rose in surprise at Don's quick comeback. "Alright, alright. I won't deflect. I'll just give you some cold hard facts, Don, and my venting will be done." Don nodded his agreement and listened intently.

"As track records go... mine's pretty lousy for dating. But this past week... things have been looking up between me and Bones, like we really could have a future. But when we were in that hospital, I don't know, she started to freak out or something. And I don't understand. I don't understand. Not one single bit, but it's Bones, and I'm helpless to deny her what she wants!" Booth took a deep, calming breath. His speech had become passionate, and by the end he was almost yelling. "I know she wants me, Don, but whatever she's afraid of..."

"You can help her through it, Booth."

"I asked her if I'd ever see her again... she said she didn't know. So I'm thinking, No, Don," snapped Booth. "I can't help her through it. If she doesn't want me in her life..."

Don held up his hands, cutting Booth off from his sentence. "Did you ever think, Booth, that maybe she thought once upon a time that _you_ didn't want her in your life?" Booth thought carefully about Don's philosophical insight while Don continued. "You thought walking away was the best way to work through it, and so you did. Perhaps she's taken the same page from your book. After all," smiled Don, "You said that she's learnt a lot from you over the years."

"You're right" said Booth, surrendering the argument, "the only problem is, I don't know how to fix this, how to make it right?"

Don thought carefully, before touching his fingertips together and leaning into Booth. "Was there anything else, anything at all, that you said to her before you left that hospital?"

Booth nodded. "I told her that I'd be at Penn's Landing tonight, waiting for her. But she might not show, Don. I have no clue what that woman wants anymore."

"Here's my advice, Booth. Listen to it, and listen good. Don't give up hope. Go there and wait for her, because I guarantee that, if she's anywhere near halfway as in love with you as you make it seem, she will show." Don stood and walked to Booth, pulling him to his feet. "Now, you go home, you change, and you wait for that wonderful woman of yours to appear through the crowd, or so help me, God, I will kick your ass from here to Miami!"

oOo

She actually followed her heart, and Brennan found herself standing around Penn's Landing, wandering aimlessly along the dimly lit pier. A cold wind picked up, and Brennan shivered in the breeze, rubbing her arms before checking her watch for the third time in as many minutes.

It was fast approaching 9:30, the seconds ticking away as she looked through the dwindling crowds for the man, she was finally able to admit, she loved. She had to be at the airport in twelve hours to catch her flight to New York, and as another minute ticked past, her hope that Booth would appear faded.

oOo

Brennan gave one last glance to her watch, the minute hand passing 9:35 as she let out an exasperated sigh and began marching determinedly towards the car park. Her mind argued that she was foolish enough to think that he would actually show up for her, that Booth was actually _that_ in love with her, as he so claimed to be.

"Ridiculous" she mumbled, her hands fisting in her pockets as another gust of ice cold wind swept by. A tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly swiped at it, turning the corner off the pier to walk into the car park. Giving one last glance into the crowd behind her, Brennan sighed and turned her back to the pier.

oOo

He watched it all. Booth had barely made it home and back to the pier in time to be on time. He cursed himself for being foolish enough to hang back in the office all day, finishing paperwork he'd been putting off for weeks. And just as he reached the Landing, his heart broke. There stood Brennan, looking as hopeless as ever as she held back tears.

Booth stood there, his hands gripping the railing behind him, as he watched Brennan turn her back on the crystal waters, and slowly trudge back towards the car park. He wanted to call to her, but a part of him wanted to see how it would all play out. Would Brennan see him, or would she never look back? Could he live knowing that he could have prevented her leaving? Booth's heart broke as Brennan reached the car park.

And then it was as if the Gods above stepped in to change both of their fates, and Brennan turned her head one last time...

"Bones!"

Booth had already started sprinting towards her before the word left his mouth, and he reached her just as she spun her head towards him, grabbing her and pulling her into him, sealing their reunion with a kiss.

* * *

_A/N: R&R much appreciated. I need something to get me through the next chapter...and the 3 week hiatus_


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter, the response was amazing and in such a short period of time (it's a pity FF was playing up so I didn't receive the alerts). There were a fair few questions about the un-Brennan like turn around, which are explained in this chapter, because I kinda forgot to add it in the last (I just really wanted to post something for you guys to read)._

_I would also like to say that I am a liar. I promised many of you in my replies that I would post this within a week... it's been a month, but a hectic one at that. Lecturers conspired against me to make everything due all at once. Not Fun :(_

_I would also like to thank Mr James Blunt for the inspiration for the final part of this chapter. 'You're Beautiful' really helped with writing it, and it got me all teared up._

_Next chapter will be the epilogue, which I won't start until next week sometime, which gives you guys, my faithful readers, plenty of time to offer up suggestions for it. I have some ideas, but what would you like to see? Do you wanna see them meet up somewhere in the near future after Brennan's book tour, or maybe something else? I'm open to suggestions, and I do love reviews._

_Without further ado..._

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Booth and Brennan pulled apart from their steamy reunion kiss after what seemed like an eternity. Their warm breaths mingled and condensed in the chilled Philadelphia night air. Seeing Brennan shiver in the breeze, Booth removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"What's say we get out of here and finish this someplace else?" he asked, oozing charm as Brennan smiled goofily. She'd never before kissed a man who could make her feel this way.

Emerging from the dwindling crowds on the Landing, and moving to the street, Booth hailed a cab and ushered Brennan inside, climbing in and settling beside her.

"I presume you brought your car with you," began Brennan in her clinical tone, "so why are we in a cab, Booth?"

Booth handed his address over to the driver, and then turned in his seat to Brennan, smiling lovingly at her, and pushed a stray hair behind her ear. "Let's just say it's symbolic, Bones." At Brennan's confused expression, Booth continued. "How many times have you ridden off in a cab without me, when we both know I should have been right there with you?"

Brennan thought carefully about the question. "At least twice that I can recall... Oh! You mean that by taking a taxi to our intended destination together, it is symbolic of a shift in our relationship. Where all those other times sexual intercourse would have ensued had you and me ridden together in the cab to one of our places, it is now the most likely result... a sort of sexual guarantee?"

Booth simply smiled at her and kissed her on the tip of her nose. Brennan scrunched her face in response. "You're cute when you speak squint, Bones" he added playfully.

As the taxi sped through the busy streets of downtown Philadelphia, Booth and Brennan sat content in the backseat, kissing and enjoying each other's company.

"What changed your mind?" asked Booth, pulling away momentarily to replenish his oxygen supplies.

"Huh?" Brennan looked at him, confusion inscribed in all of her features as she waited for Booth to elaborate.

"You didn't want anything to do with me yesterday, so what changed your mind?"

Brennan thought carefully about her response. Her time alone in the hospital had given her a chance to think carefully about everything that had happened, but more importantly, about what she wanted in the future. Booth reappearing in her life three months earlier shocked her back to a reality that she had long since forgotten. When Booth had left, she was only beginning to discover the _true_ extent of her feelings for Booth. His departure spurred her to compartmentalise those feelings, the reality becoming that there was no longer a chance between them.

"I thought a lot about what I want and what you were offering Booth. You had offered it before, multiple times, and I was not ready then. I am now. My career is no longer my priority, Booth. I've grown tiresome of lonely days and lonelier nights. Waking next to you last week was a pleasant experience. There was no pressure for a sexual encounter and you were also content just _being_. I have never had that connection before, and I find I would like to experience it again... with _you_."

They were silent for a minute, the scenery passing by them changing from inner city to suburban as they thought about Brennan's words.

"There was also a... moment. As you know, I was expected to attend interviews and book signings this past week, but my absence had them all pushed into Friday and today. Before my release from the hospital, I had had a conversation with Angela. She informed me of what my feelings were, and I told her of your proposal. However, due to the nature of hospital staff, our conversation was cut short and I was forced to begin my day with no knowledge of how I should end it."

Booth looked at Brennan. "The moment... what was the moment that gave you your big epiphany?"

* * *

"_The Director and I are old friends from a while back," I stated. 'Understatement of the year' I mused to myself, continuing to keep eye contact with the reporter. "Though our colleagues once stated that we had chemistry, there is nothing between Director Booth and I. Our relationship is purely platonic." That was also a huge understatement. Yes, we were purely platonic, but he wanted more, and I was beginning to want more._

_My cell phone beeped, a message from Angela no doubt, continuing from our previous conversation._

_**Just do it, Sweetie.**_

_I patiently waited for the interview to conclude before excusing myself to the bathroom. Angela had made many valid conclusions regarding the information I'd already given her, and that she had observed herself. However, most of her arguments lacked empirical evidence._

* * *

"Angela and I continued to converse, or more, argue, for a while after that. I believe my publicist was concerned that I had fallen into the toilet, however that would be quite impossible for a grown woman. Anyway, Angela begged and pleaded that I 'trust her', and meet you."

Brennan lowered her eyes and began fidgeting. With a sigh, Booth pursed his lips together and made his conclusions. "You showed as a favour to Angela?"

Brennan nodded, but then quickly shook her head. "Not in the usual sense of the word 'favour'. I had already decided that I would meet you, however Angela requested that I forgo the questioning of your values and intentions; and to allow you to fulfil your inherent alpha male attributes during future events, including the act of coitus."

Booth held back a smile, and tried his best to not laugh at how seriously Brennan made the statement. "Not her words, I'm guessing Bones."

Brennan nodded slowly. "I will concede that her words were fewer and more direct, although far less clinical. She said something more along the lines of I have to let you strip me down and sex me up. To let you 'rock my world'" Booth snorted as Brennan recited Angela's words, followed by his cocky grin re-emerging.

"Well, I promise Bones that if you follow Angela's advice, I will _not_ disappoint."

For added emphasis of his promises for their night, Booth pulled Brennan to him, planting a searing kiss on her lips just as the taxi pulled up outside his house.

* * *

Throughout their night together, Booth and Brennan both made a point of rectifying each other's misconceptions. Booth proved that he indeed was _not_ a prude, and that his belt buckle told no lies (and was perhaps a vast understatement); and Brennan proved that she wasn't _only_ capable of 'satisfying biological urges' in a detached and unemotional setting.

To say that expectations were met was an understatement for both Booth and Brennan. Their night hadn't been filled with raw passion, but nor had it been gentle and tame. It was a perfect mix of Booth and Brennan, of giving and taking until they were both exhausted and sated.

When sunlight streamed through Booth's eastern facing window at dawn, Booth groaned and rolled over, only to find a warm, smooth and deliciously naked obstacle halting his efforts from rolling over and sleeping in. Slowly, Booth opened his eyes to a pair of gentle and loving blue eyes staring back at him.

"Good morning" he said sleepily, smiling at Brennan before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're up early, so either I didn't do my job or..."

Brennan pushed gently on Booth's chest as he moved to climb on top of her. "You did your job fine, Booth" she chuckled, running her hands up and down his naked torso, enjoying the feeling of warm flesh beneath her hands. "I find it difficult to sleep past 5:30, regardless of how little sleep I've had or how exhausted I feel."

Booth glanced to the clock, sitting bolt upright immediately, and turned to Brennan with a shocked expression. "Geez Bones! You could've woken me instead of sitting here bored."

Brennan gently pushed Booth back against the headboard, climbing over him and straddling his lap. "I wasn't bored, Booth. I find watching you sleep to be fascinating. You were correct when you said that facial expressions can tell us a lot about a person. For example, Booth," she smirked, trailing a finger enticingly down Booth's chest. "I was able to tell when you were having an arousing dream..."

Brennan smirked again when Booth let out a strangled "Bones!", wiggling in her position on his lap, eliciting a groan from him. "That's just mean, Bones!" he growled, but let her continue her ministrations nonetheless.

"Aside from the most obvious physical evidence, Booth, your body had other physiological reactions to your dreams. Your muscles would tense and then un-tense, and you gravitated towards me. Your expression was calmer than other times during the night, and I was certain I saw you smile a few times. Also, your breathing was much more even, and your body remained in an un-contorted supine position."

"A who with the what now? Bones, you gotta speak English in bed, or else the pillow talk is gonna remain a one sided conversation."

"It means that you slept flat on your back, Booth. You weren't twisted and you were much more comfortable. You will probably find that your back is in much less pain this morning." Brennan watched as Booth checked his back, being able to twist it with minimal discomfort. "Now, enough about facial expressions, Booth. I'd like to know what you were dreaming of. Was it me?"

Smiling cockily, Booth leaned up to Brennan, bringing his lips just millimetres from hers. "Always," he whispered seductively, before snaking his arm behind her back and flipping her onto the mattress, pinning her under him. He was intent on making a point of just how arousing she could be, both in his dreams and in real life.

* * *

By the time they managed to drag themselves out of each other's arms and out of bed, it was fast approaching 9 am. Booth was first to shower, jumping in and out in a matter of minutes, leaving Brennan enough hot water to linger for as long as she pleased.

Booth was in the kitchen busily preparing breakfast when Brennan emerged from the bathroom and appeared in the doorway. Her auburn locks were slightly damp and the natural waves came to rest just above her breasts, where they skimmed the edge of the fluffy white towel. It was modestly wrapped around her body, covering everything necessary, but coming to rest on her thighs at a taunting height.

Booth's mouth fell open when he saw her, dragging his eyes up from her fidgeting feet, which were rubbing against one another, to the edge of the towel. He examined how it hugged deliciously at Brennan's curves before finishing at the top of her breasts. The lightly tousled hair caught Booth's eyes next, and he followed the silky strands upwards, catching sight of Brennan's flushed appearance. For the life of him, Booth couldn't decipher if the blush was from the hot shower or his intense gaze.

"Booth!" called Brennan, exasperated and annoyed. She'd already called his name five times and she was moments away from throwing a punch at his arm to rouse him from his daydream.

"Yes?" he half yelped, his voice husky with the obvious arousal he was feeling at the moment.

"Firstly, I do not appreciate your lack of functioning due to my sartorial choices, which brings me to my seconds point. A towel is hardly my ideal choice of attire, Booth, but seeing as how all of my clothes are at the hotel and you probably wouldn't appreciate me wandering around your house naked, I had no-"

Booth wrapped his arms around Brennan's waist, dragging her into his chest. "I wouldn't mind if you walked around my house naked, Bones." Booth's arousal was evident in his voice, and he chuckled darkly before claiming Brennan's lips as his.

When he pulled back, he smiled sweetly at Brennan and pecked her cheek. "There's some sweats and a t-shirt laid out on the end of the bed if you want to borrow them." Brennan nodded, adjusted her towel and headed back to the bedroom to change while Booth finished making breakfast for them.

* * *

**9:30 am**

Brennan slid the key into her hotel room door and pushed it open once unlocked.

"And this is where I... _planned_ to stay this week. Obviously events didn't go according to plan."

"I'm sorry, Bones" sighed Booth dejectedly as he closed the door behind him.

"There's nothing to apologise for, Booth," insisted Brennan as she moved around the room, gathering her things and never looking back to Booth. "You cannot determine such events occurring. No one except my captors is at fault or responsible for what happened. And since I feel no guilt over it, then what makes you think I'd allow you to?" She had come face to face with Booth as she finished her speech. Her hands rested on her hips and she tilted her head to the side in her 'defiant' stance.

"You're right, Bones. Thanks." He was truly thankful for Brennan's admission, but a part of him still, and probably would always, feel responsible for Brennan getting kidnapped.

Brennan smiled in return and stepped towards Booth, embracing him in a not-so guy hug. "I find that I am relieved by your acceptance of not being responsible, although I am quite certain that you will continue to harbour feelings of regret and self loathe for what happened."

"What gives you that idea, Bones?" asked Booth playfully, flashing his charm smile.

"I have known you for a very long time, Booth, and quite often, for circumstances where you held absolutely no control, you still felt guilty about the outcome. Though we haven't seen each other for three years, I have no reason to suspect that that fact would have changed."

Booth pulled away first from their hug, pecking Brennan's lips and cheek affectionately before taking a step back from her. "What time do you have to be at the airport, Bones?"

Brennan checked her watch, quickly gathering herself before moving around the room again to pack the last of her things. "My flight leaves at 12:15 from Philadelphia International Airport. I need to be at the airport by 11:15 to check in and check my baggage, before boarding begins at 11:45. That gives us 90 minutes to do as we please, Booth."

Booth nodded, moving over to help Brennan zip one of her suitcases shut. "Well, it's about a 20 minute drive from here, not including parking, so we have more along the lines of an hour. That is, if we ever finish packing Bones!" He looked around the room to the four other bags surrounding the bed. "Geez Bones, did you pack your whole wardrobe or something?"

"Of course not, Booth, that would be impractical. I merely followed my publicist's advice to be prepared for any situation. Now, considering that on this trip I have crossed the Atlantic Ocean twice and zigzagged across and up and down North America, it warrants that I be equipped with sartorial choices to suit any and all weather conditions!"

Booth raised his hands in defence. "I was only kidding, Bones. Just... chill."

They were silent for a bit, neither sure of what to do next. Brennan made the first move, slamming her body against the warm solid wall that was Seeley Booth's well defined chest. Her arms snaked around to his back, slipping under the AC/DC t-shirt he'd chosen to wear for the day. Her lips met his in a passionate kiss, the situation quickly escalating beyond innocent and appropriate.

Booth pulled away at the first opportunity, holding Brennan still while he regained his composure.

"This is certainly something enjoyable for us to occupy ourselves with until I have to catch my plane. I would think that you would be a far more willing participant."

Booth sighed, taking Brennan over to the bed and sitting her down. She was still dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt he'd given her. "This is gonna sound like some sort of a romantic cliché, or something Bones, but we have to talk. We _need_ to talk."

Brennan nodded. She'd been trying to avoid this particular conversation all day, and so far she'd been successful, keeping Booth distracted from _that_ particular topic for the better part of the morning. She knew it was unavoidable, after all, she was talking with Booth – the heart person. Nodding her consent, Brennan waited for Booth to continue down his line of inquiry.

"You have a flight to catch in less than three hours Bones. A flight taking you to another city, another state, and I don't know where that leaves us."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for some minutes, neither knowing where to continue from Booth's statement, neither _wanting_ to speak the truth of what was going to happen between them.

"It leaves us right where we are now, Booth." The words slipped from Brennan's mouth as she sat staring at her feet.

"And where's that, Bones?" Booth waited a few seconds for Brennan to answer, but when she didn't respond, he took that as his cue to speak for her. "I'm going to tell you what I think, Bones, and then we can talk about it at the end."

"I love you, Bones, and I've loved you for as long as I can remember. It killed me to leave, to leave you, especially the way in which I did it. It wasn't fair to you, us, or anyone else. The first few months I was here I felt like throwing in the towel and moving back to Washington to be with you, in whatever role you'd allow me – Partner, friend or lover. I can't say I'd do the same now, Bones. Just the same as I know you wouldn't drop everything you have to move here with me."

"The simple fact is, Bones that we're both somewhere we want to be – career wise – and neither of us wants to give that up. But at the same time I don't want to give _you_ up. So I don't know where we go from here."

Brennan smiled, stood up and moved to get changed. "Well, Booth, I propose we do as we have always done – we compromise. You are correct in your assertion that I cannot give up my position at the Jeffersonian. And just the same, I don't expect you to abdicate your position as Director to return to Washington and beg Cullen for your job back."

"I propose we take it one day at a time, 'live in the moment' as Angela would say." Booth stared after her, the confusion etched so blatantly in his features that not even Brennan could miss it. "What I said... sounds like an insult to your beliefs, Booth, yet you should take it as more of a compliment. You once said you wanted 30 or 40 or 50 years, and while my feelings towards you have evolved, I still believe, as a scientist, that I cannot give myself to you as such. I can promise today, and I can promise tomorrow, although I will not physically be here at that time..."

"I want to be with you, Booth. I want everything you have to offer and to offer as much of myself to you as I can in return. However, a physical distance will always separate us at this juncture. And until such a time as when we can develop an appropriate compromise, we will have to live and love each other on a day to day basis."

Booth sat on the edge of the bed, completely dumbfounded. Half of what Brennan had just said to him made his heart soar. The other half... he didn't understand a single word of it.

"Obviously I've been away from you squints for too long, because half of what you just said sounded Japanese..." he joked. "Firstly, though, I wouldn't have to '_beg_' for my job, as you put it Bones."

"You are quite incorrect Booth. Director Cullen was quite angered and somewhat distraught at you leaving. Although I am certain he would be glad to have you back, I am also certain that he would make you jump through many metaphorical hoops before allowing you to resume your position."

"Okay, well secondly Bones, I think what you were _trying_ to say before was that while we can't be together all of the time with our work arrangements being in different cities and all, we will make an effort to see each other and stay in contact... right?"

Brennan nodded and stepped closer to Booth. "Since this conversation has been so... emotionally oriented" began Brennan in a seductive tone, gripping Booth's shirt as she stared straight into his eyes, "why don't we try for something more physical to occupy the remainder of our time until my departure?"

Booth smiled and pulled Brennan to him, tumbling them onto the bed. "Are you trying to seduce me, Bones?"

"Always..." came the whispered reply, before Brennan claimed Booth's lips and body as hers.

* * *

"I don't want you to go" whined Booth, dragging Brennan back to him and slamming her into his chest as he kissed the top of her head affectionately.

Brennan relaxed into the hard plane of Booth's chest. Truth be told, she didn't want to leave the comfort of his arms... ever. She especially didn't want to travel to New York by herself to finish her book tour, but there was nothing she could change about that either.

"You'll see me again," she promised, looking up to him with a faint smile before placing a gentle and chaste kiss on Booth's lips. "Soon. I promise."

Booth nodded, his left hand tunnelling into Brennan's hair and drawing her nearer to him for another kiss, while his right hand was splayed against the small of her back, holding her to him so she couldn't escape.

They stood there, outside Brennan's departure gate, kissing as if their lives depended on it; so wrapped up in each other that neither noticed nor cared about the looks they were receiving from passersby. It had taken them too many years to get to this point, to sort themselves out, and no one was going to ruin it for them. After all, they already had an impending departure taking care of that factor.

The flight attendant called Brennan's flight, and Booth and Brennan reluctantly separated, untangling themselves from one another before walking hand-in-hand to the gate. There were too many words to be said, but at the same time too few. What does one say to the love of their life whom they must watch walk out again? Should they share promises of love and a future? Or should they leave it as a simple 'goodbye', before parting ways?

Booth turned to Brennan, opening his mouth to speak. "I..."

"Don't, Booth" cut off Brennan, holding her hands up against Booth's chest to give them distance. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Booth. Neither of us wants me to leave, and if you start talking..." a tear slipped down Brennan's cheek, and Booth reached his hand up to gently brush it away. "... then I'm not going to be able to leave." Her voice cracked as she reached her arms behind Booth and held him tight to her.

He held her. No words were spoken, they didn't need to be. There was nothing he could say to make everything peachy. So he just held her, showing her his affection through that innocent touch.

The flight attendant made the final call, and Brennan looked up, placing a tender kiss on Booth's lips before pulling away, wiping the tears from her eyes as she handed her boarding pass over and boarded the plane.


	20. Chapter 20

_AN: I was in a bad place when I started this story a year ago. And though I've neglected it for the last five months, I know that the delay was necessary. This story needed a happy ending, so I needed to have one too before I could finish it. Therefore, this chapter is devoted to my loving boyfriend who has, and always will, help me to see the light._

_I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favourited and subscribed to this story over the past year, it means so much, and I always love to hear all of your thoughts._

_I've always had in mind how I wanted this story to end, and even though this chapter is short (for 5 months work), I'm happy with it, and I hope you all are too._

oOo

**Chapter 20: Epilogue**

It had been three months to the day since Booth had pulled Brennan back from the brink of death after finding her in the warehouse. So much had happened in those few months to complicate everything beyond most people's comprehension.

Booth had kept his job in Philadelphia – as important as Brennan was and always would be to him, Booth had already sacrificed a lot to get to where he was professionally. His job wasn't as scarce as Brennan's – she could find work almost anywhere at the drop of a hat – so Booth wanted to keep his position of power. After all, he was starting to get a little old for active field work.

Brennan had finished up her book tour as planned, the story of what really happened to her in those few days never leaking out to the Press. She then resumed work at the Jeffersonian – as planned – despite Angela's insistence (and Cam's, Hodgins', Sweets' and just about everyone else's too) to return to Philadelphia to be with Booth. And despite their insistence to Brennan, Cam's engagement and marriage to Paul had her traipsing around the world for several months on an extended honeymoon, so head of Forensics at the Jeffersonian was handed to Brennan in mid-December, rendering her stuck in Washington for the time being.

As time went along, Booth found it harder and harder to keep his position as Director of the FBI in Philadelphia with Brennan stuck permanently in Washington. Seeley Booth was a romantic, and being separated from Brennan when there was now actually something between them was nearly killing him as he struggled on a day to day basis. They made it up as they went along, but the nature of their careers disallowed for a physical relationship to carry on between them if they were separated.

The first time they actually saw each other was almost straight after Brennan arrived back in Washington after finishing her book tour.

She'd been back for almost a week. Booth was in the Washington vicinity for work, conducting a training session for Senior Agents working on the East Coast. He surprised Brennan one day, showing up at the lab to bring her flowers and invite her to lunch before he left that night. The ruckus that ensued at the Jeffersonian turned lunch into dinner, with the entire squint squad joining them at Founding Fathers for a catch up session. His original two day stay turned into three as he decided to forgo his original travel plans in lieu for 'personal leave' to catch up with Brennan. Booth's departure was saddening for them both, but with less than a month until Christmas, promises were made that their separation would be short lived.

...

Their Christmas break saw Brennan back in Philadelphia, both of them business free for their brief holiday periods. In that time, Brennan arranged to take Booth on a surprise date which included rink-side seats to a Flyers game, followed by a scratch-match and celebrations with the team members that lasted well into the night. To Brennan's own surprise, her arrangements had left Booth quite speechless for most of the evening, but when they arrived back at Booth's house, he showed her his appreciation in many, many different ways.

The next day, though, work beckoned Brennan back to Washington, and Booth and Brennan again faced the tumult of separation.

oOo

**February 21 2015**

After twelve years of upholding the post of Deputy Director of the FBI, Sam Cullen was retiring and taking a well earned vacation. After Amy's tragic death, Cullen had taken almost a year of leave (in which time the maniacal Kirby took over), but never really took time to smell the roses or do anything else he truly wanted to do. Now came his opportunity, having felt he'd done his due service to his country.

...

Booth's plane had gotten in later than expected, and so he'd opted to meet Brennan, Angela, Hodgins, Sweets and Cam at the retirement party instead of at the airport as originally planned.

Sliding into the seat next to Brennan at the table at the front of the room, Booth placed a sweet 'hello' kiss on her cheek before paying attention to the rest of the group. It had been several months since he'd seen the Squint Squad, and 'hello's and 'welcome back's were exchanged before they all made their way over to congratulate Cullen and his wife on the long overdue retirement.

...

The lights in the room dimmed and the small stage at the back of the hall fell under gentle lighting. Sam Cullen approached the lone microphone, tapping it thrice to ensure it was on, before clearing his throat. "Ladies and gentleman," he began, resting his drink on the small table to the left of the microphone. "Usually we leave the speeches until later on in the night, but I figured that with tonight's festivities, and a younger, more party-going generation in attendance, that it would be better to get the boring stuff over and done with now, rather than later when you're all too hammered to pay attention."

Taking a sip from his scotch and soda, Cullen steeled himself for his next announcement. "As I hope you are all aware, I have decided to step down from my post as Deputy Director, and I have chosen to retire. I've held this post for twelve years, and in that time I've seen a lot of things go down. But I guess it comes with the job. Any agent, whether field or intelligence, could tell you of the horrors we see every day. And it's tough. Most of us can't handle it straight up, so we find ways to deal. Some take to the bottle, some take to the casinos. Me? I've always dealt by going home to my lovely family, who help me realise that there really is good in this world."

Cullen stepped back from the microphone and took a few deep, cleansing breaths, taking another sip of his scotch and soda, before continuing. "I promise you all that I will announce who I have chosen to take over my post as Deputy Director shortly. But before I do, I'd like to share with you all some of my experiences, and spin you a little tale.

"In my years at the FBI, and even before then, I'd seen some pretty horrific things. But I've also seen some amazing things in my time as well. I've seen analysts prove themselves to be field-worthy, like Johnston; and I've seen greener-than-green agents blossom into the best they could possibly be." Cullen tilted his head and winked at a balding man on the right.

"I've seen superhuman feats and unexpected acts of heroism from my agents. I've seen love blossom and love die; loved ones taken from this world too soon by those we endeavour to neutralise. I've seen Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity in every single one of you - my agents, my comrades; my friends.

"But never, in all of my years, did I expect to see an act of blackmail on one of my agents, whose personal problems surpassed those of most of you combined, turn the situation into a career-making partnership." Cullen stuck his arm out, pointing it at Booth, continuing his speech with passion. "That's right, Booth. I knew, all along that she blackmailed you into it. And I never expected you to amount to anything, really, as an agent or a human being. That is, until she came along. But in the course of a year, you turned your life around, made Special Agent in Charge and forged the greatest partnership the FBI has ever seen."

"Now these two," Cullen vaguely waved his hand between Booth and Brennan, "helped my wife and me through some pretty tough times a while back, and since that time, I've always had a great respect for them, both professionally and personally. And as most agents in the FBI will attest to, they seemed a pretty perfect couple had they gotten their act together sooner. I'll tell you, Booth, I've lost my fair share of money making bets on you in the office pool." The room erupted into a quick bout of laughter before silencing again. "But in all seriousness, they were a freakin' love story. They just didn't know it yet. At least, they _were_ a love story until this doofus gave up, and up and left for another city, another state.

"You've done a lot of good in Pennsylvania, Booth, andI never want to undermine that. But you and Doctor Brennan remind me of my wife and me, and you guys deserve that kind of happiness – the kind you can't maintain when you're living hundreds of miles apart. So tonight I extend this offer, not only to you Booth, but to Doctor Brennan as well. I would like you, Director Booth, to take over as Deputy Director here in Washington, so that your love story may finally be complete."

A wave of silence washed over the room, and Booth sat slack-jawed in his seat. An elbow to the ribs from Brennan broke his stupor and forced him into action, and with drink in hand, Booth approached the stage.

"I uh... Honestly, when I came here tonight, Cullen, this was _nowhere_ on my list of possible outcomes for the evening. I mean, I run the field office in Philadelphia, so I never even thought I could be in the running for your job. And, it's not to say that I'm not grateful for the offer, Sam, because I am, but uh, I don't know if I can accept you offer. I have my job in Philly, a life, friends..."

Cullen clapped a hand onto Booth's shoulder, effectively silencing him. "The logistics have already been taken care of, Booth. That is, if you accept my offer. And should you choose to bring along a select few of your agents here with you, the Bureau has already agreed to make positions available for them."

Booth looked nervously around the room, his eyes scanning for signs of encouragement before they fell upon and locked with Brennan's. He stared into the depths of her eyes, searching for an answer as to what he should do, and all he found was hope: hope for the future they could have if he took the job. Nodding slowly, Booth replied to Cullen's request. "I would be honoured to accept your offer, Sam."

oOo

**Nine Months Later...**

Time had passed quickly since Booth accepted the job offer from Cullen at his retirement party, and many things had happened. Booth had sold his house in Philadelphia, and with the help of Hodgins, Sweets and Brennan, he'd moved all of his stuff back to Washington and into Brennan's apartment. With the work that he'd done on the house, the value had increased exponentially, and Booth and Brennan had put that money towards a new plot of land and house package in Rock Creek Park, of which they had designed the house to suit their needs for the present and future.

It had taken some time for Booth to readjust to living and working in DC. Washington's underbelly was much more under than Philadelphia's, and he'd found himself with a lot less casework to sign off than what he'd had for the past two years. In the time he'd been back, Booth had worked with Brennan only twice, on cases that he'd commandeered purely for the pleasure of reliving the old days.

Living with Brennan had been another adjustment for Booth. He hadn't lived with a woman for over four years, and while everyone claimed that he and Brennan were 'meant for each other', living together, sharing such close quarters hadn't come as easily to them as Booth had hoped. Their bickering on occasion had escalated to full blown fight status, with Booth bailing to Hodgins' mansion to cool down, before returning back to Brennan's apartment a couple of hours later for make-up sex. Most other times for Booth and Brennan were relatively _peachy_, and both Booth and Brennan were happy with where their lives were headed.

Don and his wife had also moved to DC, upon Don's request. Booth was happy to oblige, but when Don had asked to be transferred to Washington, Booth questioned why he wouldn't accept the role of Director in Philadelphia. As appealing as Director would be to most Agents, Don claimed that he was much happier being a field agent than being stuck behind a desk five days a week. He also told Booth that frankly, he was too old to take up such a position and in a few years he and his wife could retire to a peaceful life in their nation's Capital.

oOo

It was a sunny Tuesday morning as both Booth and Brennan were preparing to leave for work.

"let's go to dinner tonight, Bones" announced Booth, who nervously palmed the back of his neck. "I mean, it's been a year since we, uh, we worked things out. So... you know..."

"Dinner would be great," smiled Brennan in return, gathering her things and rushing out the door before Booth could get another word in.

...

Excited about the prospects of their respective dinner conversations, neither Booth nor Brennan got much work done during the day, and both were walking out of their workplaces as 5:30pm sharp.

Booth had used his wasted day to book their reservation at a quaint vegan restaurant on Q Street, and finalised his preparations for the evening before heading home.

Brennan, on the other hand, spent her morning assisting Angela with Paige and the twins, discussing her plans for the evening.

"You should wear that silver dress we bought last months. It's playful, but fairly modest – perfect for an evening out, Sweetie. That, and Booth hasn't seen it yet," advised Angela animatedly, raising her eyebrows suggestively at her last comment.

oOo

Dinner was accompanied with good wine and pleasant conversation, with Booth generously tolerating the vegan meal which he so trustingly allowed Brennan to select on his behalf. The bill was met with bicker over whose right it was to pay, Brennan's argument of "Booth, making the reservations entitles me to foot the bill" falling on deaf ears.

Instead of heading straight back to the apartment, Booth and Brennan took a stroll, ending up at the Jeffersonian, where they wandered aimlessly through the extensive gardens arm in arm.

"Happy anniversary" chorused Booth, and Brennan happily replied the sentiment. "So I guess you probably figured out that I had another reason for bringing you out tonight, right?" When he was met with silence, Booth halted their walking and spun Brennan to face him.

"Any word from the peanut gallery?" he joked.

To his surprise, Brennan responded with an atypical "I actually know what that means", and at her innocent smile, both Booth and Brennan broke into a laughing fit, holding onto each other for support.

They had truly come a long way over the years, both evolving in ways they thought they never would. Once upon a time, Brennan believed she'd never find a happy ending, that all she was 'destined' for was science and truth. She never believed in fate or soul mates, or even love. But here she was, standing with the only man who truly understood her, on the precipice of something even greater. And Booth... there was so much from his life before this woman that he regretted, but with Brennan by his side, Booth was coming to terms with what he'd done, mending the bridges to earn forgiveness in the eyes of god.

...

As their laughing died down, their breaths catching up with them, Booth's expression changed. A sweet smile adorned his face as he looked to Brennan, who upon picking up Booth's cues also calmed down and looked to him.

"We've known each other for what, ten ... eleven years?" Brennan nodded, her gaze not faltering from Booth's. "And we both know that I've been in love with you for most of that time, right?"

Realisation dawned over Brennan as she came to conclusions of where this conversation was headed. But instead of turning and running, as both she and Booth were expecting, Brennan stood her ground, her hand reaching for his, her body taking a step closer to Booth against her will.

"Just hear me out, Bones... I love you. The sex is mind blowing and you drive me crazy in all the best ways, but that's not why I love you. This will sound corny and so cliché, but you complete me Bones. You make me a better person. You bring out the best in me, even in the worst situations, and I can't imagine living my life without you in it.

"I know I screwed this all up once upon a time, and that we've moved past that, but I love you and you love me, and I want the chance to make it all up to you, and keep making it up to you for the rest of our lives."

Booth reached into his right jeans pocket and produced a dainty white gold ring, with a single circle-cut diamond protruding from the top, with two inlayed diamonds on either side.

Taking a deep breath, Booth continued his rambling speech. "You can say yes, or you can say no, because I know that our love is strong enough to move beyond this. But, Bones, will you marry me?

The girlish smile that marred Brennan's face from Booth's un-Boothy rambling speech was replaced by shock, her hands moving to her belly as she gasped at the ring. The shock, too, was quickly replaced by a soft loving smile, and as she reached her left hand out towards Booth, Brennan replied

"I'm pregnant."


End file.
